Inkdeath
by Beyond the Pages
Summary: My version of the third book. Abriella is the daughter of the dead Capricorn. She's out to find Mo and Meggie so she can earn Mortola's respect, and stop her mother's beatings. R&R! No flames, please! COMPLETE!
1. Alone

Chapter 1 - Alone

The woman put her ear to the wall, straining to hear what was being said on the other side. The boards separating her and the person in the other room were thick and, try as she might, she couldn't hear a peep of what was going on next door.

A knock sounded on the door, and a young girl opened it. A chill went through the older woman's spine. The child was never anything like her father, who was a wicked and cruel man, without regard for the life of another being. Unless of course, that other being could offer him something. But that was not his way with Abriella. Abriella was treated harshly, as would be expected from her father, but he seemed to soften, if just a bit, when he was around the girl.

She had long blond hair, which was so pale that it was almost white, and pale skin that had only a hint of peach color to it, just enough to make her seem healthy and acceptable to other human standards. But people would still assume that she hadn't seen the sunlight in years. That wasn't the only thing she inherited from her father, though. Her eyes. The older woman shuddered again. She loved Abriella dearly, but if she could change one thing about her daughter, it would be her eyes. The older woman likened them to a glass of water: blue, and yet without color. Abriella's eyes had the illusion of color. They frightened the other woman because the girl's father had the exact same eyes, but with the added coldness that seemed to jump from those pale blue eyes and into her heart, evaporating any courage she'd ever had.

The plain white dress Abriella wore made her skin seem washed out and colorless, as if all the color from her skin had drained out of her face and arms and been soaked into the wood floor she stood on. The dress didn't suit her slight form at all. Instead, it made her appear ghostly, like an apparition. If the older woman had been in the Wayless Wood, among all the trees, she would have mistaken the girl for one of the phantom White Women, which haunted the forest as though searching for a half-dead mortal to take back with them. It was made worse with the way her colorless blue eyes stood out against her pale face in such an unnatural way. No matter how forlorn and ghostly the child looked, it always came back to those eyes she had that filled her mother with such a chill that she had to turn away from her daughter, so the girl couldn't see the look in her eyes.

"Mother," Abriella began in her whispery voice that created a haunting image behind the woman's eyes, "what are you doing? We're not supposed to be eavesdropping on the Adderhead. You know that."

"Shh!" Abriella's mother hushed her. "Be quiet! I have to know what they are saying."

"But why?" She demanded, putting her hands on her hips. She raised her voice. "You know that Mortola would be furious if she found out you were spying on the Adderhead. And so would he!" She was practically yelling.

"Be quiet!" Her mother commanded, although it was to no avail. The girl didn't want to listen to anyone, least of all her mother.

It was then that Mortola decided to enter the room, wielding a whip in one hand, and the other was clenched in a fist.

"What's going on here?" She demanded. "Why is there all this yelling?"

"Nothing," Abriella's mother said immediately. "We were just having a philosophical discussion, is all."

Mortola raised her eyebrows and turned her sight towards Abriella. "What is going on here?" She demanded in a menacingly low voice that sent shivers down the girl's mother's spine.

Hanging her head with humility and shame, the girl spoke in a small voice, "She was listening in on the Lord Adderhead's conversation."

Mortola raised her gaze to look at the girl's mother, and then ordered Abriella out of the room. The other woman knew what would come next, and she prayed that it wouldn't last long.

Abriella left the room with an apologetic look on her face, and her mother faced the punishment that was about to be dealt to her.

-

I wanted so much to listen in to what was going on, but I didn't dare. Not after what had just occurred. I shuddered to think of what Mortola might do to me if I was caught eavesdropping on her and my mother. I shuddered even more when I heard my mother's screams as they echoed across the hallway and into my bedroom.

My bedroom was right across from my mother's room, which was right beside the Adderhead's room. His excuse for this arrangement was that he wanted to keep an eye on my mother and me. I personally think he was ready to kill his own china doll of a wife and take my mother instead, as she was beautiful and available.

Besides, taking the mother of the daughter of Capricorn as his own would be another one of those rumors that he would be happy to spread, so that everyone knew that no one was safe from his grasp.

He hadn't done it yet because the wife he had now had born him a son. But I felt sure that it was only a matter of time.

Not even Capricorn's daughter safe. Because I, like my mother, was under surveillance. I knew about the secret passageways that passed my room, allowing people like Firefox and the Piper to peep in on me. I knew that they did it, which was why, whenever I was changing my clothes, I did so behind a screen, where none of the paintings that had obviously had the eyes cut out could see me. That way, if they were peeping while I was changing, they wouldn't see me.

I also knew that if I ever tried to escape, that would be short-lived.

The door opened, and my mother came in. I immediately went to my chest of healing herbs, which my mother and I used whenever Mortola beat one of us. Usually, it was my mother who was the butt end of the beatings, and Mortola took special pleasure in beating my mother because my mother had been foolish enough to think that she was safe from the old woman.

Who knew that a grandmother and mother could be so heartless and cruel?

I pulled out the best herb remedy I had for cuts, and immediately began to apply it on my mother's back and arms. They were cut, bleeding, swollen and red. I also applied the ointment to the cuts on her back that were not bleeding; the ones that had been administered the previous week.

Mortola enjoyed the weekly beatings she gave my mother. I had no idea why she did, but she did. It was only after the fact when I realized that most of the time, it was because I had brought attention to some things that my mother was doing, which she wasn't supposed to be doing, and therefore brought upon the punishment that befell my mother.

"It was worse this time," I said. My mother didn't reply. All I heard was a small weeping sound, and I knew that she was crying.

She was crying because I was the reason she had received the beating, and all the other beatings. I knew that my mother would never be what Mortola wanted because, unlike Mortola and Capricorn, my mother was soft-hearted, and didn't know the meaning of the word, 'selfish'. She was always thinking of others.

Except when she was being beaten.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I knew there was nothing I could do that could take away the pain of her daughter causing her this anguish. But I had to say something. I loved my mother, and I couldn't bear to see her hurting like this, and all because of me. "I didn't realize what I was doing at the time," I said, as if that could qualify as a good enough excuse. "I'm so sorry." My voice was below a whisper, so soft that I myself had to strain to hear it. I felt my cheeks become warm with my shame.

If it had been anyone else, I couldn't have cared less. It was because it was my mother – a woman who had done nothing to harm anyone – that I cared as much as I did.

"It's not your fault," she whispered. "It's His fault."

I knew she was talking about my father. Capricorn. She blamed him every time she was given a beating.

Before Capricorn disappeared, there were never any beatings. But then Firefox took over, and he took my mother for himself. She was lucky when the Adderhead stepped in and brought her to his castle.

I hated Firefox more than anything or anybody. Even more than I hated Mortola, if that was possible. He had grabbed my mother for himself the moment that Capricorn had disappeared before his eyes, when Capricorn had been watching as Basta teased and menaced the fire-eater, Dustfinger. After the shock had worn away, Firefox had immediately grabbed my mother from her bedroom and thrown her into his.

And there was nothing she could have done about it.

From the beginning, Firefox had wanted my mother for himself, even before I was born. This was because she had been the most beautiful of the maids. But Capricorn had decided that he had wanted my mother for himself. He had never been attached to any of the maids, and he had made sure that all of them bathed in vinegar, which was supposed to prevent a woman from becoming pregnant. But it hadn't done any good in my mother's case. Capricorn had only had her for one night, but one night was enough. Two weeks later, according to my mother, she was throwing up uncontrollably, and Mortola gave her a nasty beating because she was useless as a maid until I was born, and my mother could recover.

When Capricorn disappeared, I was just surprised that Firefox didn't take the wench who appeared in his place, since she was just as beautiful as my mother, if not more, since blond hair was supposed to, at the time, be the more beautiful look.

The beatings had started when one of the younger fire-raisers had wanted me in his bed. My mother, knowing what it would do to me, had hit that boy so hard, he hadn't been able to see or speak for a month.

So Firefox had beaten her until she was black and blue.

But he had never let anyone touch me.

Mother had always said that Capricorn would be my downfall, and my safety. She always said that he had valued only three things: First, his life, second, his money and third, me. I always had a hard time believing her, but when Firefox killed a man for grabbing me, I knew that he was still terrified that Capricorn would return, and kill _him_ for allowing such a thing.

If there was one thing I knew, it was that, no matter how hard I tried, my past, and my father, would always follow me, wherever I went.

And there was nothing I could do about it.

**AN: For those of you who are reading this and going, "I've read this before! This is plagiarism!" I can assure you that this has not been plagiarized. This is an original story, which I had previously written on a different account, but deleted because of personal reasons. I stopped writing on that account because someone was stalking me (I won't go into detail about it) and therefore I have changed the name to what the name of the next in the trilogy is supposed to be (Inkdeath) and have posted it here on this account. If you have never read this before, then press the pretty purple button and let me know what you think! No flames, please!**


	2. Planning and Preparations

Chapter 2 - Planning and Preparations

I gazed out my window at the Wayless Wood and sighed. I had never been outside the castle before. I had always watched the Wayless Wood from my window, but I had never had a chance to enter into its depths and discover its mysteries. It was something that I had always longed to do.

Before I had been brought to the Adderhead's castle with my mother, I had used to sing occasionally, if there was no one else around. I couldn't do that anymore. If anyone heard me singing, I didn't know what would happen to me. The Adderhead hated anyone who was of the Motley Folk, and only the Motley Folk ever sang any songs.

I felt alone. A song came to mind, one I had sung often before when I had lived among the fire-raisers. I sang softly, praying that no one would hear me.

"_Don't be afraid feeling this way_

_Gonna make you understand._

_It's not about you_

_'Cause I am the fool,_

_Building castles in the sand._

_If I were crazy, just don't care._

_It doesn't need it all with you're near._

_This is the story about me and you._

_And it's called_

"_Faith, right beside you is where I'll stay._

_Faith, just take me as I am,_

_So please, have faith._

"_So many times in so many ways_

_I didn't know just where to go._

_You gave me a sign that opened my eyes_

_That's the reason why I know_

_That you are different,_

_You still hear._

_I guess you figured me our right there._

_Now I believe that we can make it through._

_And it's called_

"_Faith, right beside you is where I'll stay._

_Faith, just take me as I am,_

_So please, have faith._

I felt even more alone after singing the song, but the music eased the pain in my heart. Music had always seemed to sooth me. Perhaps that was because my mother had previously been one of the Motley Folk, before she had been caught stealing something, and Mortola had taken her to be a maid. When I had been small, my mother had always sung lullabies to me to help me sleep.

I thought about the man and his daughter who, according to Mortola (yes, I eavesdropped on occasion as well), were the ones who had killed Capricorn. I had been sad when my father had died, but only because he had been my father, and he had never really done much to harm me directly. It had only been to others, like my mother, to whom he had been cruel. He had allowed Mortola to beat my mother, and one time it was within an inch of her life.

I found it hard to believe that a man and a little girl could have killed Capricorn. It seemed quite impossible. Still, though, it must have been true, because Mortola hated them. They had eluded her twice, and it had made her furious.

As I continued with this line of thought, something occurred to me. If I were to capture or kill those who had killed my father, perhaps she would grant me one wish. If she did, I would wish that she would stop beating my mother. But the only way that I could get out would be if I escaped, and Mortola would beat from my mother my whereabouts.

The only solution to that problem would be to not tell my mother anything about my plan. She couldn't know anything.

I jumped off my bed and grabbed my blanket. I took two hairpins and pinned the blanket in front of the picture that stood over my mantle, which had obviously had the eyes cut out. It was the only picture in the room, but it was near the center of the room, so whoever was looking through it could see whatever he wanted that was in the room. I didn't want anyone to be spying on me while I was preparing.

Once the blanket was securely covering the picture, I set to work immediately packing a few things in a towel. I couldn't take an actual pack because that might tip someone off as to what I was going to try to do.

I packed some clothes, and four necklaces. One of them because it was my favorite, aside from what I was wearing, and the other three because I might need to sell something for money to buy food.

I touched the pendant of the necklace I was wearing: a square emerald, with tiny diamonds surrounding it, on a gold chain. It was my favorite because it had been a gift from my mother on my twelfth birthday.

I snuck out of my room and to the kitchens. The cook, who had a soft spot for me because I wasn't picky like the Adderhead and his wife, gave me three rolls, and a hunk of cheese. I told her it was just in case I got hungry in the middle of the night.

I went back up to my room and wrapped the rolls and the cheese in a cloth and stuck it in my makeshift pack. Then I tied up the pack and hid it under my bed.

When I was finished packing, I removed the blanket from the picture, and was not at all surprised to see two eyes peering through it.

I smiled at the eyes, recognizing the owner. "Hello, Firefox," I said, and poked his eyes out.

I heard him cry out, and he disappeared.

"That's what you get for spying on me!" I declared, locked my door, and covered the picture up again, using him being there as an excuse. "Now you can't spy on me!" I stated, making sure that he heard me, so that he would think him spying on me was the reason I was covering up the picture.

Only once did someone knock on my door, and when the Piper answered my query as to who it was, I told him to leave me alone because I furious that he and Firefox were peeping on me.

After that, I was left alone.

As the shadows outside lengthened, I thought about how I would escape the Castle of Night. I figured that there was no way I was going to escape by wandering the endless halls. My only option was to climb out my window, which was a very bad idea, considering how far I would fall if I slipped.

So I would have to secure myself to something somehow. I decided that I would use the curtains of both my windows, and I would braid them together to make a rope. But I would have to wait until night had completely fallen, so as to be certain that Mortola or someone else wouldn't come and catch me in the act.

Soon, I would be free of the Adderhead, and I would be on my way to rescuing my mother from Mortola and her whip. I could hardly wait.

**AN: There's chapter 2! Review, please! But no flames, please:)**


	3. Escape

Chapter 3 - Escape

I crept past the many sleeping guards and wandered seemingly aimlessly down the halls. I had a place that I was going to, but I was pretending to be sleepwalking. The climbing out the window idea had been less than successful, and I had decided that this was probably the best option.

I hated living in the Castle of Night, under the watchful eye of Mortola and the Adderhead. The Castle of Night, where the walls were slick with the screams of widowed women.

I hid behind a corner when a patrolling guard appeared out of no where and began walking my way. I felt sure that he could hear my heart beating loudly in my chest. I wanted - no, I needed - to get out of the Castle of Night and into the Wayless Wood, where no one would be able to find me; where I could hide amongst the trees and bushes.

As soon as the guard passed, I crept down the opposite hallway and headed down the stairs. For a moment, I thought someone was following me. But when I turned around, there was no one there. I sighed and inwardly told myself to stop hearing things. Then I walked out the door and headed around the side of the mountain, to where I had dropped my pack. I hoped that no one had seen it, and that the food in it hadn't been crushed.

No one stopped me, and it seemed that this night, like many other nights, the guards were bored and tired, so they took a nap right where they were. I was glad that the guards at the Castle of Night didn't care if I passed, and often slept. Still, though, it would be better that no one know where I had gone, or that I had gone.

Mortola was sure to beat my mother the moment she found out, but I couldn't go back now.

I gazed up at the silver towers of the Castle of Night. They reached their spiky talons up to the sky, as if trying to claw down the moon. The moon, for its part, had hidden behind the clouds, as though trying to escape the touch of those towers. The guards on the battlements walked with a bored air, but I could still smell their fear. Most of the guards at the Castle of Night were just ordinary men who had been made soldiers. At the top of the wall, the severed heads of minstrels stood on pikes, as if trying to ward away evil. Too bad for the Adderhead that he didn't realize that evil followed him around wherever he went; that evil lay next to him in his bed by night. And I'm not talking about his wife. There were six gallows standing in front of the castle, four of which were always filled. This time, a fifth man hung from one of them. I thought about his wife, whose screams would have been added to those that had long ago washed the walls until they glowed a sickly silver color.

After a long walk in which I wished that I had stolen some better boots - mine were sturdy, but they obviously weren't good enough - as well as several long minutes spent crawling on my hands and knees to prevent myself from being seen by the guards patrolling the battlements, I found the spot where I had dropped my pack. I sighed in relief. Finally I could get out of there.

I had put on a dark green dress, to help me blend in with the trees and bushes, but my hair and skin stood out like a beacon. So, to prevent anyone from seeing me, I had had to cover my head, face, and arms with dirt to darken my hair and skin. Then I headed into the Wayless Wood, glad for the reprieve from having to live in the Castle of Night.

Then a horrible thought took me. What if the Adderhead took my mother while I was gone? What if, now that I had disappeared, he had no one standing in his way?

I doubted that even Mortola would allow it, but she was under his command, not the other way around. With that thought, as well as the thought that Mortola didn't want anyone to know that I existed and would probably send someone after me, I headed farther into the Wayless Wood.

I knew that I couldn't go to the Infirmary, because that would be one of the first places that the Adderhead's men would look. And the Spelt-Mill was burned down, although they were working on rebuilding it, so that was out of the question. The only option was for me to just head towards Lombrica. Perhaps there I could find shelter. It was quite probable that this Sivertongue was hiding among the Motley Folk, or in Ombra, so all I had to do was ask around, and then I would probably find them.

But these days, the Motley Folk were hiding from the rest of the world a lot more successfully than before. Still, though, it was better to have a bad plan than no plan at all.

There was also the option of Capricorn's old Fortress. Perhaps I would find someone there. Although, nowadays, Night-Mares liked to roam the area, searching for a fearful soul. So it was a much more dangerous place than it had been. At least, for me it was. When Capricorn had ruled there with an iron fist, he had hardly ever had me beaten, and when he did, it was for reasons that were somewhat understandable.

As I traveled through the forest, I had a sudden thought. What if there were Night-Mares around here? What would I do then? I looked around, but I didn't see anyone or anything. Perhaps they were hiding?

I shook my head. _Get a hold of yourself, Abriella,_ I told myself. _The Night-Mares aren't going to go after one little girl wandering around the Wayless Wood all by herself_.

I straightened up, and kept on walking, until I could only hear the sounds of the forest and the beating of my frightened heart. I stopped and climbed a tree, which proved much more difficult than I had imagined. Then I ate a little, and rested against the tree trunk.

-

When I woke, sunlight was dappling through the leaves overhead, and it cast shadows on me. When I looked down, I was surprised at how far up I was. I ate a little again, and then climbed down and began to continue my trek. I just kept going forward, but I was sure that I was going in circles. After several days of walking with few rests, I stopped again. This wasn't working. What was I supposed to do?

The silence surrounding me was encroaching upon my personal comfort, and I felt nervous and surrounded. In fact, I was sure that there were supposed to be some fairies fluttering around somewhere, at least. Where were they? They would surely love my hair, despite the dirt.

"Hello?" I asked quietly, and that was when I saw it: A large, hulking black bear. It didn't do or say anything; didn't move, just stood there, watching me. I took a step backward, and the bear took a step forward, towards me. "Nice bear," I murmured, and backed myself into a tree.

_Great idea, Abri,_ I thought. _Now you've backed yourself into a corner. Too bad for you that climbing the tree wouldn't help you at all. Black bears can climb trees, too. And they're much better at it than you are._

I felt like I was going to cry; I was so scared. But the bear stopped when it was just a foot away. It arched its neck and sniffed the air in front of me, as though trying to catch my scent. Then it settled itself down, and lay down on the grass in front of me.

I was shocked. Weren't bears supposed to be vicious?

I tried moving a little to the right, but the moment I took a step, the bear bared its teeth and growled at me. I stopped and returned to my spot. I knew then that this was no ordinary bear. It seemed to be guarding me. The thought sounded ridiculous, but it must have been true. Why else would a black bear appear out of nowhere, and lie down in front of me, not allowing me to leave?

"Um," I began after what seemed like hours, but was probably only a half hour, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to reach Lombrica."

It didn't seem to register that it understood anything I had said. All it did was close its eyes lazily and begin to breathe deeply.

I sat down on the grass, and the bear opened one eye.

"Either you are waiting to eat me," I said to the bear, "or you really are just being very mean, Bear." I crossed my legs, making sure that my dress covered my knees. Then I leaned against the trunk of the tree.

The bear closed its eyes again, and soon it began to snore.

Once, I tried sneaking past it, but it opened one eye and yawned widely, stretching out to prevent me from leaving. I sighed and remained where I was.

At some point, I nodded off. When I woke up, a man was standing over me. He had black skin and even blacker hair. His black eyes gazed down at me curiously and cautiously, and his black lashes moved with his eyelids when he blinked.

I sucked in my breath as he straightened, standing tall. I just looked at him. I saw that there were three knives at his belt, and I swallowed loudly. My hand involuntarily went to my throat.

The bear was still sleeping in front of me, and it stirred when the man put his hand on its coat. Then it occurred to me that my first thought must have been true. The bear had been guarding me until his master arrived. The man said nothing when I continued to look at him. Never taking his eyes off of me, he stroked the bear's fur.

After another long moment, I sat up and reached my hand over to the bear. "Does he bite?" I asked, putting my hand on the bear's hide.

"Only when there's danger," the man replied.

I stroked the bear's soft fur.

"What are you doing here all by yourself?" The man asked.

"Running," I replied matter-of-factly. The bear's fur was soft, like a kitten's. I scratched the bear behind the ears, and it arched its neck it pleasure.

"Running?" He asked, a smile playing across his lips. "From what? A father who wants to marry you off to a rich old man?"

I didn't smile. "My father is dead," I said flatly.

His smile vanished. "I am the Black Prince," he said after a long moment.

I nodded. I had thought as much.

The Black Prince seemed to be waiting for me to introduce myself. When I didn't, he straightened up, and the bear stood as well.

"Where are you off to?" He asked.

"Lombrica," I replied, standing as well. I brushed myself off.

"You're in Lombrica," he replied. "Where in Lombrica do you wish to go?"

"I'm in Lombrica already?" I asked, bewildered.

"You crossed the border a few hours before my bear found you," he replied.

"Oh," I said, not knowing what else to say.

"Where are you going?" He repeated.

I shrugged. "Wherever there's work, I suppose," I replied. I couldn't very well tell the Black Prince that I was Capricorn's daughter, off to get revenge so I could save my mother from Mortola's beatings. I gazed about myself. I didn't want him to see my eyes. He had already seen them enough, and he probably knew already whose eyes they reminded him of, if he had ever encountered Capricorn.

"There isn't good work for a woman anywhere except with the Motley Folk," he stated. He had his hands crossed over his chest, and I could see his muscles, even under his tunic.

"Then I guess that's where I'm going," I replied.

"What can you do that would earn any money?" The Black Prince asked. He eyed me suspiciously again.

I shrugged again. "Not much," I replied. "I sing sometimes, but other than that, nothing."

"We'll see how good you are when we reach Ombra," he replied, and began to walk away. When I didn't follow, he stopped and turned around. "Are you coming?" He asked.

I shrugged, and began trudging after him. I was trying to seem indifferent to the task, but really I was excited. Finally, I would be able to escape Mortola's and the Adderhead's clutches... Even if it was to find and betray my father's killers.

**AN: There's chapter 3! Review, please! You know the bit, no flames, please, etc, etc.**


	4. The Motley Folk

Chapter 4 - The Motley Folk

We walked for hours on end, almost never stopping. When we did, it was only for my sake. And whenever I would mutter curses under my breath, the Black Prince would raise an eyebrow in surprise, and I would glare at my feet.

It seemed as though we were walking around in circles, although I was sure that that wasn't the case, and that any minute, we would end up right in the same place where the Prince's bear had found me.

Although, even if we had, I probably wouldn't have recognized the place. The whole forest seemed to be the same. The same tall trees, in which the branches of just a single tree could shelter a whole troop of the Adderhead's men, the same small bushes, the same strange flowers of which I didn't know the names. Occasionally a fairy would flutter around my head, tugging on my long hair. I had to shoe the pesky things away numerous times before I finally gave up, and asked the Prince to borrow his knife. He handed it to me without a word and I trimmed some of my hair off of the ends, and then handed it to one of the fairies, who took it in her tiny blue hands and flew away with it, her sisters following her.

Everywhere we went, I heard scratching, scrabbling noises coming from the trees. Once or twice, I saw a pair of eyes peer at me through the darkness, and I felt my heart jump into my throat with fright. The noises of the forest sent chills up my spine.

The Prince seemed to notice this, and moved a little closer. His nearness gave me a little comfort, because I knew from stories that he knew his way around the Wayless Wood. A bit of an oxymoron when you think about the name of the woods, but its the truth. Once, when the noises were becoming particularly frightening, the Prince made a motion to his bear, which was lumbering along beside him, and then the bear let out a hideous roar that drowned out all sound. I was one of those who thought that the Prince's bear was a Night-Mare in disguise, and the fact that it could roar so inhumanly didn't do anything to deter those feelings, even if it was trying to help.

Everywhere I looked, I saw strange plants and flowers, and I was amazed that the forest could hold such wonders, and yet be filled with such danger. Once, I spotted a blue flower that was dotted with veins of pale pink. I wanted to ask the Prince the name of the flower, but I felt too shy.

He still hadn't asked me my name.

We stopped only twice. Once because I had a rock in my shoe that was driving me crazy, and again because night was falling and we stopped to make camp.

The moment the Black Prince stopped walking, I collapsed. I had never done so much walking before in my entire life. I now knew why royalty preferred horseback riding.

The bear lay down not far from where I sat and lay its head on its paws, closed its eyes, and began to snore. I wished I could do the same, but the Black Prince was speaking to me.

"Do you want to cook, or catch?" He was saying.

"Huh?" I asked, not quite understanding, and not quite hearing him completely.

"Do you want to cook dinner, or catch it?" He repeated.

I thought for a moment. "Cook," I said finally. "If it's left up to me to catch it, we'll be here all night."

I was already growing dark, especially since not much light reached past the top layer of leaves in the Wayless Wood. A cool breeze blew through the clearing, sending goose bumps up my arms and spine.

The Prince smiled a little, and then left the clearing. I stood up after a few minutes to see if I could find some kindling for the fire. The bear opened one eye when I stood, and then closed it again when it saw that there wasn't any danger approaching.

I cautiously approached the edge of the clearing, and began to gather some fallen twigs. Some of the "twigs" were quite large, and I used them for the base of the fire. Once I had gathered a substantial amount of kindling and wood for a fire, I was left with the problem of figuring out how to light it; I had nothing to use as flint. So I decided to wait until the Prince returned and ask him if he had any flint, and if not, if he knew of another way to start a fire.

So I sat and waited until the Prince came back, carrying two small creatures that looked like a cross between a marten and a squirrel. I had already built a makeshift spit, so all the Prince had to do it figure out a way to light it, and then tie the small creatures to the spit. He did this, and soon there was a cheery blaze going, and the martens were roasting over the flame.

Despite the warm fire, I was still very much aware of the fact that beyond our little campsite was the uncharted woods, where anything could happen to a person, including death. I shivered at the thought, which caused the Prince to look my way.

"I'm fine," I replied to his unspoken question.

It was then that he decided to ask me my name. "You still haven't told me who you are," he said casually, as though he really didn't care, when I could tell that he was itching to know. How could I tell? Easy. His mannerisms told me so. He was tapping his fingers against the ground impatiently, and there was a tightness in his jaw that was growing tighter by the second.

"You don't want to know my name," I replied shortly, and I knew that my face took on a faraway look. I was remembering when Capricorn had still been alive, and Mortola hadn't beat my mother. I was remembering a time when I was almost happy. I had never been truly happy, except when I was very small, and my mother would rock me to sleep, singing soft lullabies in my ear while stroking my hair away from my face. When I was smaller, my hair, for some reason, looked darker, and my eyes did, too, so it was less obvious of whose daughter I was. The last time my mother had done that, I had been eight years old, and had cried because I had seen Capricorn execute a man by fire. It had been the most horrible thing I had ever seen. Up until that point, I hadn't ever seen my father's truly evil side; just his angry and selfish side. But the man who had died hadn't done anything more than deny Capricorn his goat.

"You're wrong," the Prince said, causing me to pull myself back into the present. "I do want to know your name."

For some reason, the way he said those words made me blush, which made me feel embarrassed because he might get the wrong idea, which made me blush even more. I collected myself surprisingly quickly, and replied. "Fine," I said. "My name is Abriella, if you must know."

"Why were you alone in the woods?" The Prince asked, turning the spit, even though I was the one who was supposed to be doing that. He stoked the fire.

"Because I was running," I said, taking a small stick from the ground beside me and pushing some of the pieces of wood in the fire around. Sparks flew into the sky, and I thought of the fire-eater, Dustfinger, who had defied Capricorn and Basta.

"Running from what?" The Prince asked.

"Not from what," I corrected. "From whom."

"Alright, then," he said, "from whom?"

"My grandmother," I replied.

"Your grandmother?" He asked incredulously. "Why would you be running from your grandmother?"

"Because she's an evil woman," I replied. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

The Prince shrugged. "Fine," he said, and removed the martens. He handed one to me, and took the other for himself. "We'll reach the camp by tomorrow afternoon," he added once he was done eating.

I finished my food and then helped the Prince to put out the fire. Then we both climbed a tree, one of us on either side, and the bear climbed his own tree.

"It's uncomfortable," the Prince said, "but it's better than being down there when the night predators come out."

"Agreed," I said, and tried to get comfortable. After a few minutes, I heard the Prince breathing gently. A few minutes later, and I fell asleep.

-

We traveled for about two days before we reached the city of Ombra. It was much grander than I had at first thought, although the castle wasn't nearly anything compared to the Castle of Night. At least, in size, the Castle of Ombra was nothing. In terms of beauty, it was much more. Even from a distance, I could tell that it was nothing like the Castle of Night. The Castle of Night is a terrible construction, and has evil built into its very core, just like its master. The Castle of Ombra was much, much different.

The Black Prince didn't enter Ombra, though. He, along with his bear, stopped just outside the city, where the Motley Folk were camped. When he headed into the fray of children and strolling players, towards a fire that was burning invitingly near the middle of the camp, I hung back. I didn't want anyone in the camp to see me. I was filthy, and covered in dirt. My feet hurt, even though I was wearing good, sturdy boots, and my butt was sore from spending several nights in a row sleeping in trees. But that wasn't why I didn't want anyone to see me. By now, you, dear reader, should know that I was, and am, the spitting image of my father, Capricorn, former leader of the fire raisers. It's not exactly something that I'm proud of, and it frightens people.

But even as I thought this, I recalled that the Prince himself had not been frightened of me. Perhaps I only looked so much like my father because those who I had lived among my whole life knew him, and had seen him, so they knew what he looked like. Perhaps I looked familiar to the Prince, but he couldn't place his finger on why. Perhaps then I would be able to walk among the people of the Motley Folk without being found out as Capricorn's daughter. There were a lot of "what ifs" with that option.

But the Prince had stopped, and was waiting for me to catch up. For a moment, I hesitated, considering all my options. I could just go into Ombra now, and forget the Strolling Player's camp. I could just go my own way, and forget about the Prince and his bear.

But something held me back from choosing that option. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, but for some reason, I felt like I had to stay with him. As if he needed me around. Still, though, he was waiting for me to catch up. Perhaps I could find a friend in him after all. I had never had any friend besides my mother. Everyone else was always too afraid of enraging those who controlled my life.

At that thought, I made my decision, and I trotted after him to catch up. His bear followed behind me, once nudging me in the butt with his nose when I lagged behind a bit. I could have sworn that that bear knew my thoughts, and knew how much I was unsure about my decision.

As we neared the camp fire, I could see several people sitting there, and I froze. One of them met the description of the one who had killed Capricorn. I didn't want to go forward.

But then the Prince was taking my hand, and his bear was gently pushing me along after him. The Prince's hand felt warm in mine, and I suddenly felt filled with a courage I didn't know I had. I followed him, and knew that I had to face the music sooner or later. As we neared the campfire, one thought came through my mind; one that I didn't think that I was wondering until I mouthed the words when the Prince wasn't looking: Where did that courage come from?

**AN: Chapter 4 is up! Review, please!**


	5. The Folcharts

Chapter 5 – The Folcharts

As the Prince and I neared the main campfire, I was suddenly filled with anxiety and worry. Terror, as terrible and foreboding as a Night-Mare, gripped me in its claws, and in my mind, I played out what might happen when the man sitting by the fire with the black hair saw me. First, he would be surprised, then angry, and before I knew it, I'd be lying on the ground, dead as a doornail, because of some written words that he had kept safe and hidden from the rest of the world, just waiting to read them out loud so that he could destroy all memory of Capricorn. I felt sure that he would know where I came from right away. The only reason the Prince hadn't known was because he hadn't ever actually seen Capricorn; it hadn't registered in his mind that I might be related to that hated man, who people still feared even after he was dead.

But then we were entering among the men, and a few women, who were all sitting around the fire. The conversation stopped when the Prince and I entered the circle, and a spot was quickly made for the Prince where he could sit down. The Black Prince had already released my hand before we had entered the area around the campfire, and now I stood around, with all those eyes staring at me, not knowing what to do. Finally, I sat beside the Prince, feeling awkward and out of place.

"Where did you find this one?" Asked a man with a bristly brown beard and large muscles bulging from his arms.

"The Forest," the Prince replied shortly, and he introduced me to everyone, starting with the man sitting on his left-hand side. The man's face was all wrinkled up like a turtle's, and his black hair was streaked with grey. His back was bent over like an extremely old man's, and yet he didn't look like he was older than a man in his sixties.

"This is Fenoglio, the Inkweaver," he said, and the old man dipped his head in greeting. _Ah,_ I thought. _That's why his back is so bent. It's from bending over a piece of parchment for his writings._

I nodded shyly in his direction, thinking that he wouldn't recognize me at all. Unfortunately, I was wrong in that aspect, because the next thing I knew, the Prince was saying my name, and the old man's eyes lit up in surprise.

"This is Abriella," the Prince said, gesturing to me. The old man nodded again, and he seemed to have withdrawn inside himself to think.

Then the Prince introduced me to the man with the large muscles, whose name was Rupert. Rupert nodded, and then turned back to whittling a piece of wood. I felt sure that at any moment, he was going to snap the piece of wood in half, and throw the pieces at me, reach for my neck, and throttle me, all the while yelling about whose daughter I was.

The Prince then introduced me to several more people before he introduced me to the man whose name I already knew: Silvertongue.

Silvertongue had black hair like moleskin, and a long pale scar running up his arm. I shivered when I saw it, wondering where it came from. His face looked tired, as though he had spent many nights lying awake with insomnia.

"This is Silvertongue," the Prince said.

"Mortimer Folchart, actually," Silvertongue corrected, but I could tell even he thought it was useless to correct the Prince when it made no difference. People were still going to call him Silvertongue, even if he didn't want them to.

I nodded, feeling my whole self begin to shake with fear. I didn't know whether or not he recognized me, but for some reason, I felt that he did. He just didn't know from where.

The reason for this, probably, was because he was giving me a strange look, as though he was trying to remember where he had previously seen me. I ducked my head to allow my hair to block my face. I didn't want anyone to see my eyes.

"This is his wife, Resa," the Prince continued, "and his daughter, Meggie."

Meggie was the spitting image of her mother. Both had long blond hair, although Resa's was darker than Meggie's, and both had blue eyes. Resa also had dark circles under her eyes. They made her look older than she probably was.

Meggie looked like she was about thirteen years old. That would have made her about four years younger than me. I wondered why she was sitting with the adults. Meggie's head was leaning against Resa's shoulder, and the girl looked tired.

I was seventeen, and Meggie was thirteen, or fourteen. I doubted that I would be able to find a friend in her. Normally, I would have been married by now, except for the fact that no one knew I existed, so something like that wasn't possible. I figured that Meggie was probably engaged or betrothed, or something like that. If there was anyone at all in the Motley Folk who was my age, they would be married, and so would not be willing to be my friend because they would be too busy with their own family. I had never felt more alone, if that was possible.

"Is anyone going to introduce me?" A female voice asked angrily. An old woman was sitting beside Meggie. She was wearing a strange cream colored skirt and an even stranger cream colored blouse, with a small grey sweater over top that buttoned up at the front. Her hair was askew, and had probably previously been done up in a bun. Her skin was extremely wrinkled, and her ankles looked swollen, as though she had been walking far too much.

Meggie smiled, and she introduced the old woman. "This is Elinor," she said. She squeezed the old woman's hand.

"Why, thank you, dear," the old woman said. "If only I could have had such a wonderful introduction as Mortimer's though. Heaven's above, it's warm!" The old woman didn't seem to know when to close her mouth. If it was so warm, why didn't she remove her sweater? She was already wearing a blouse underneath. Her sweater was buttoned up almost all the way. Only a single button was undone, and a little bit of her blouse peeked out.

Sitting next to the old woman was a nervous-looking man with large glasses that kept falling down his nose. His face didn't look all that old, but he was bent over a bit like an old man, and it was probably because he had encountered something that frightened him. For some reason, I couldn't help but think of Basta.

"And that's Darius," Meggie said, pointing to the nervous man. The man nodded, and I smiled cautiously at him, trying to be encouraging. I knew what it was like to feel nervous and out-of-place.

After introducing me to everyone else, the Prince asked Resa to take me over to where the women were feeding the children, and get me something to eat. I was quite hungry, and really wanted something to eat (what I had brought with me had barely lasted until I had met up with the Prince), but I was afraid to leave the Prince's side. I was scared because I was in a new place, and I didn't know the people around me. Sure, I knew their names, but I didn't know what kind of people they actually were.

Resa stood up, and Meggie with her. After a moment, Elinor grudgingly stood as well. They waited for me outside the circle.

I glanced at the Prince, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. I stood and followed Resa, Elinor, and Meggie out of the circle, and towards another, smaller, fire that was burning on the other side of the camp. A woman with brown curls was standing in the center of a semicircle of children, stirring a pot of something that smelled wonderfully like stew. My stomach growled, and I looked longingly at the pot.

Resa went up to the woman stirring the pot and spoke to her for a moment. I didn't pay any attention to what they were saying; I didn't really care. But a moment later, Resa was handing me a bowl of steaming stew, and a wooden spoon.

I sat down a little bit away from the rest of the children in the semicircle, and began to eat ravenously. The stew was thick and goopy and stuck to the roof of my mouth. But I didn't care; I was too hungry.

Everywhere around me, the sound of wooden spoons scraping against empty wooden bowls echoed. Obviously, the children were still hungry, even after eating a bowl of stew. Their long faces and bent backs told me the story more than words ever could.

After a while, Meggie came and sat down beside me. "Where are you from?" She asked.

I almost choked on my stew. I couldn't very well tell her that I came from the Castle of Night, where the walls were always slick with women's screams of pain and sorrow. Still, though, my mother had taught me to always tell the truth. So I did... sort of.

"Argenta," I replied, and I filled my mouth with stew to prolong answering any other questions. I pushed it around in my mouth. It really was not the best stew, but it was all there was. I wasn't going to complain.

"Where in Argenta?" She asked.

After a long moment, I answered her. "The south."

"Where in the south?" She persisted. She was like a mosquito with her questions.

"If you must know," I said, "I ran away from home because my situation there was abusive. I'd rather not talk about it in detail, if you don't mind."

Meggie looked taken aback, but she said no more, and of that, I was glad.

-

The Prince sat at the central fire with his bear behind him. The Inkweaver sat on his left, with Silvertongue beside him.

"Where does she come from, exactly?" Silvertongue asked, referring to Abriella.

"From the south," the Prince replied shortly, and would say nothing further on the subject. He fingered the hilt of one of his knives.

The Motley Folk were not allowed to carry knives, or any other kind of weapon, with them; it was against the law. But the law also said that if a man killed a strolling player, he needn't go to jail. The Motley Folk did not believe in following laws that did not protect them.

After a moment, Silvertongue stood up and asked to speak to the Prince privately. The Prince raised an eyebrow, stood, and followed Silvertongue to a semi-secluded area. His bear followed him.

When the Prince returned, he was fuming, and no one said anything to him again for the rest of the night.

**AN: Okay, I really don't think I need to be reminding you to press the pretty purple button and tell me what you think. So please, do so:)**


	6. Truth and Lies

Chapter 6 – The Truth

I woke up early the next morning, and as I did, the events of the previous night came back to me. I glanced beside me and I saw a little girl sleeping peacefully beside me. Her name was Abby, and last night, she had decided that I was to sleep with her, and we would be, "best friends". I found her affections endearing, but they also made me feel nervous and guilty for what I was going to do, which was to betray Silvertongue and his family to Mortola.

I carefully removed Abby's arm from around my waist and stood up, careful not to step on anyone. I trod carefully, avoiding arms and legs that were splayed about everywhere. It seemed as though the children of the Motley Folk enjoyed sleeping on top of one another. I supposed it was because there was comfort in numbers, and the warmth of the bodies of other human beings probably made them feel safe. Most of the children of the Strolling Players were orphans, or runaways; children who had felt little to no love, comfort, or protection in their short little lives. Being with the Motley Folk probably made them feel wanted and accepted. I knew the feeling, or lack thereof.

A few of the children stirred as I passed, but none awoke. I turned back the flap of the tent, and the early morning air seeped in through the small opening. I stepped outside and breathed in the morning air. A light fog hung clung to everything; trees, bushes, grass, flowers, all were wet with the dew that the fog had brought along with it.

I headed over to where the Motley Folk had dug their latrines to relieve myself. The smell was overpowering, and I was glad to get out of there as soon as possible. When I returned, I headed for where the campfire had been, the one where I had received the stew the previous night.

When I reached the area, a small campfire was already burning, and the same woman from the previous night, looking tired and unkempt, was stirring the pot.

"Hello," I said, and I smiled a little.

The woman didn't smile back. "It's not ready yet," she said. "It won't be for another few minutes, which is probably when the children will awake. I suggest you help yourself to some wild berries, if you can find them." She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, scratched her head, and then yawned. "These days, there's very little food to be had anywhere."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said politely, and truly I was sorry to hear it. It was such a shame that little children like Abby had to go hungry while hard-working women like this one here (I couldn't remember her name) had to go without sleep to search and prepare the little food they did get.

I thought of the mounds of food that the Adderhead wasted every day because it was not prepared the way he wanted it to be. I thought of the roasted peacock he'd had one night, when he couldn't sleep, its tail feathers surrounding it in a brilliant fan of colored eyes that seemed to stare down at me as I watched him gorge himself. The Adderhead's butcher face looming down at me. I shuddered.

As I sat waiting for the food to finish being prepared, I saw that more people were leaving their tents by the minute, and soon there were at least a dozen hungry children standing outside in the cold, misty morning air, waiting for breakfast to be served to them.

I spotted a man wearing a pair of bottle-bottom lenses step out of a tent. I don't know why the man seemed peculiar to me, or why I felt my gaze drawn to him, but I did. I watched as he peered around, and, realizing that it was not quite yet light, went back into his tent.

He seemed like a strange character, but I didn't dwell on it, because the next thing I knew, a bowl of steaming hot stew was being handed to me, and I immediately dug in. It was just as lumpy and sticky as the previous night, but I ate every last drop of it, scraping my wooden spoon against the empty bottom of the wooden bowl, trying to get the last drips of the stew. I was surprised at how hungry I was, considering I had probably been better fed over the last few days than most of the people in the camp, including the adults, who could hunt for themselves.

As soon as I was finished eating, I stood. I left my bowl in the hands of the woman who was doing the washing, and strode away from the "eating fire", as I had dubbed it.

Just as I was leaving the eating fire, the Prince came up to me and spoke. "Today's the day," he said in a voice of declaration.

"Huh?" I asked, not comprehending his meaning.

"Today we find out what talent you have that could be of use to the Motley Folk," he replied.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

The Prince nodded. As always, the Prince's bear was with him. It seemed that the longer I was around the Prince, the more his bear seemed to like me. I wondered whether it could read my mind, but then assured myself that it was just a bear; something that I would never have dared to say out loud, just in case.

"Follow me," the Prince said, and he began to walk over to a secluded part of camp.

When we reached the area, I found out why. A boy with dark skin and black hair was throwing six or seven flaming torches into the air, juggling them so fast that my eyes couldn't keep up with his rapid movements. His bare chest gleamed in the firelight, as the sun had not yet completely risen, and the trees blocked most of what little sunlight had reached the surface of the land.

The Prince waited until the boy stopped juggling the flaming torches before speaking. "Farid," he began, "this is Abriella. I would like you to try and see if she has any talent for fire-eating."

Farid nodded. He was solemn and seemed more than slightly depressed. I wondered why he would feel so horrible.

The Prince then walked away, leaving me alone with this strange boy who didn't look like he belonged any more than I did.

"You may want to tie up your hair," Farid advised, putting out four of the six torches.

I nodded and, with a sigh of regret, I tore a strip of cloth from my dress (I wasn't going to bother to go get something from one of the women there), and tied up my hair with it. Farid then showed me how to toss the torches into the air and then catch them again. The result was singed hair and a bruised forehead (I tripped and fell face-first onto the ground).

Throughout the day, I went through a series of torturous attempts at different Motley Folk talents. I tried putting on silly faces (I tripped again and bruised my nose), trying to lift things that were too heavy for me (I wrenched my back and had to hobble like the Inkweaver), tightrope walking (my feet slipped and I hit my groin on the rope), and dancing (I fell and twisted my wrist).

By the end of the day, I was so sore that I could barely move, let alone stand, which was exactly what the Prince wanted me to do.

He nudged me with his boot. "Come on, get up," he said.

"Leave me here," I said, sprawled out on the ground, completely aware that it was not in the least bit lady-like, and not caring a fig about the issue. "Someone will eventually step on me and put me out of my misery."

"If you're not careful, that someone is going to be me," the Prince replied, and raised his boot monumentally.

"All right, I'm getting up," I said, trying to sit up, and not doing very well. I groaned and the Prince held out his hand. I let him help me up after a moment's hesitation. The only person who had ever held my hand before was my mother, and she wasn't there. I hadn't allowed myself to get close to anyone else. Not that anyone at the Castle of Night had wanted to get to know me.

"Are you happy now?" I asked, leaning against him because my feet were killing me.

"Quite," he replied.

I looked at him. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. But then I saw the twinkle in his eye, and the smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He was joking. I smiled back, and his smile broadened tremendously so that I thought he would break his face.

I must have said this out loud, because the next thing I knew, he was roaring with laughter. I didn't see how that was funny. I had been perfectly serious. But I had to laugh with him.

When he stopped laughing, his gaze grew suddenly serious. "You know," he began. I couldn't stop staring at his mouth, but I had to. I didn't want to look him in the eye directly, so I looked at his lashes. They were as dark as ever. "You remind me of someone."

I suddenly became nervous as I thought he might know who my father was. If he had ever seen Capricorn, or even heard about him, the Prince would know right away who I was. Of course, Silvertongue hadn't known, but I knew that it was only a matter of time before he realized who I was.

"Who?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The Prince's face was close to mine, and I could feel his hand resting on the small of my back. My stomach leapt into my throat, and it began to constrict. I could barely breathe.

The Prince shrugged, and then suddenly let go of me. "I don't remember," he said.

"Oh," was all I could think of to say.

"Come on," the Prince said, "there's one more thing I want you to try, and then you can lie down."

"What?" I asked.

"Singing," he replied.

"Oh," was all I could say. I couldn't get the feeling of his hand on my back to go away. It was as though his hand had left a mark there.

The Prince took me to another area of the camp where several minstrels, and a few minstrel women, were practicing. The Prince approached one of the minstrels, and asked him to play a song.

-

Later that night, after all but the main fire had been put out, and most everyone had gone to bed, I crept away from the camp and headed for the gate of Ombra.

It was before midnight, and I knew that the guards had to let me through. They barely noticed me except to tell me to be back out by midnight. They knew that I was with the Motley Folk.

I headed down the dark streets, my heart pounding at the slightest noise. I knew that I felt terrible about what I was about to do, and yet I knew I had no other choice. I had to do this. For my mother's sake.

I headed for a particular area of Ombra, one that I had gotten Abby to explain to me in detail. I knew that it was wrong of me to try and use Abby to tell me where to find a messenger, but she started the conversation. Besides, nothing was going to happen to her. It was just Silvertongue that Mortola wanted.

I reached the intended house, and knocked on the door. At first, no one answered. But then the door opened, and I was beckoned inside.

-

My task completed, I headed back towards the camp of the Strolling Players, hoping that I wasn't too late to get out of the city. I knew that it was very close to midnight, but I also knew that it wasn't quite there yet.

The guards let me out, which was a relief to me, and I headed back towards camp. Halfway there, I heard a twig snap, and I froze. I knew that if anyone from the camp had seen me come or go, I would be in serious trouble.

"Hello?" I called softly.

I heard a snuffling sound, and the next thing I knew, the Black Prince and his bear were walking out from among the trees.

"Where have you been?" The Prince asked me, concern in his voice.

_He didn't see me_, I said in my head._ I'm okay. He didn't see me_. I sighed quietly. "You scared me," I said, then answered his question. "I was taking a midnight stroll," I said, as casually as I could without sounding fake. "I couldn't sleep."

"You too?" He asked, and he gave a small smile.

As though it was natural, we began to walk towards the camp. The Prince walked beside me, his hands behind his back, in silence. His expression was thoughtful.

I was about to speak when the Prince stopped and turned to look at me. "I think I remember who you remind me of," he said, and my heart stopped beating.

"W-who?" I stumbled over the word.

"Capricorn," he replied, and I fell into a dead faint.

When I woke, the Prince was standing over me looking concerned. I took one look at him, sat up, and began to bawl like a baby. I buried my face in my hands. I was so ashamed of where I had come from, and now that he knew, he was probably going to kill me.

But instead he did something completely unexpected: he wrapped his arms around me and held me close until I stopped crying. The whole time he was crooning to me, and whispering that everything was going to be all right.

When I settled, and I was only hiccupping a little, the Prince pulled away for a moment and looked me in the eye. I averted his gaze, ashamed of my heritage. Then, to my utter shock and surprise, he kissed me! Right on the mouth. I couldn't believe it! His lips were soft and warm, and strangely enough, they tasted of cinnamon, which is a spice that I have always loved. My head swam, and I began to feel dizzy.

When he broke the kiss, I put a hand to my forehead, thinking that perhaps I was dreaming.

"I-," I began, "I don't understand. You know who I am."

The Prince smiled and shook his head. "No I don't," he replied. I looked at him, confused. "I only know who you remind me of."

I had blown it. "He was my father," I said, knowing that it would be better to tell him the truth about my family now, rather than wait until he figured the rest out. "He was a brutal man, and I hated him. He never loved my mother."

"I didn't know that Capricorn had had a daughter," the Prince commented, letting me rest my head on his shoulder.

"Not many people did know," I replied. "He liked to keep it a secret. He didn't want anyone to know that he was just as human as the rest of us; that he had urges just like a common man."

"Sounds like you've had a hard life," the Prince said.

I turned to look at him. "Yes," I said, nodding. I felt a tear trickle down my cheek.

The Prince kissed it. I felt my cheeks burn, and my stomach was doing flip-flops on the inside of me.

I forced myself to look him in the eye, and then he kissed me again on the mouth. His lips still tasted of cinnamon. I wrapped my arms around his neck, allowing the kiss to deepen. This was something I had never felt before in my life. It was like I was flying; like I was speeding through the trees of the Wayless Wood at top speed, not able to stop.

But then the Prince's bear growled, breaking the spell as well as the kiss. I felt my cheeks turn red.

"I-I'm sorry," I began, turning away.

"Don't be," the Prince replied.

"Prince, I," I began again, but the Prince interrupted me.

"I have a name," he said.

I looked at him. "What is it?" I asked.

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then he put his lips to my ear and whispered, "Corwin."

I smiled, knowing that he hadn't told anyone else this. I felt something that I couldn't describe. I didn't know what to call it.

That evening, I went back to the children's tent and curled up beside Abby, forgetting completely about the messenger, and everything else that had happened that day. I felt a joy that I had never known before, and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

**A/N: There is chapter 6! A very long chapter this time, I know. But I like this one… a lot. Please review, and let me know what you think:)**


	7. Heart Song

Chapter 7 – Heart Song

Mortola brought the whip down on Selena's back again and again, demanding the same question of the woman. "Where is she!?" she screamed, the frustration and anger seeping into her voice. "Where is she!?"

"I don't know!" Selena screamed and sobbed, the pain too much for her to bear.

Mortola halted the beating, looking down at the bleeding, half-naked, woman at her feet with disgust. She had no idea why her son had chosen this one, out of all of them. Selena was a weakling, and could be pushed around like a child. Still, though, she hadn't offered up any information about Abriella's whereabouts… yet. She would break the woman.

"Disgusting," she muttered, and strode out of the room, leaving the whip behind on the floor.

Selena remained where she was, shaking with fear, pain and sorrow. Why had Abriella left? Why had her daughter left her here alone? Why hadn't she taken Selena with her? Selena felt abandoned by her daughter; left to die by Mortola's hand.

When she raised her head, droplets of blood fell to the carpet, marring the blue threads with red. Blood red. She stared at them for a moment, transfixed by the blue fibers that would forever be stained with red, so that they became somewhat purplish.

Selena spotted the whip lying on the ground not far from where she cowered, its tip spattered with her blood. It was an instrument of death.

-

Mortola had been disgusted by Selena's refusal to give up any information about Abriella's whereabouts. The little brat had left the castle in the dead of night, and the guards hadn't even stopped her. They had been punished for their insolence, causing the gallows to become full.

Mortola would have to inform the Adderhead that Selena was not being at all forthcoming with the information. She did not like the prospect of having to be the one to inform the Adderhead, but she saw no other alternative. Especially since Firefox was with the Adderhead, which meant that Mortola couldn't send him to give the message.

When she reached the main dining hall, the Adderhead was sitting at the head of the table, his porcelain wife looking pale at his side. The stout ruler of Argenta was gazing uninterestedly at a small and fragile looking man, while stuffing his face with a roasted baby pheasant. The pig.

When the Adderhead finished chewing a few bites, a servant came up to him and wiped his mouth. Was he a child? Mortola had nothing but disgust for the Adderhead, almost as much disgust as she felt towards Selena. She wondered again why her son had sired a child with that woman, out of all of them.

The small man with whom the Adderhead was obviously conversing was slight, and cowardly, ducking his head every few minutes, trying to figure out what the Adderhead wanted him to do.

"What's going on here?" Mortola demanded, breaking the awkward and dangerous silence.

"Ah, Mortola," the Adderhead said, biting into another roast pheasant, "good. You're just in time." He gestured to the small man. "Tell her what you told me," he ordered.

The man nodded his head rapidly in a nervous fashion and began to recite: "'Sir Adderhead, ruler of Argenta,'" he began, "'I have some information I feel you may want to be privy to. I know the whereabouts of the one called, Silvertongue'" -here, Mortola clenched her fists in anger- "'All I ask in return is that my mother be left to her own devices. Silvertongue is camped with the Strolling Players outside Ombra gate. Sincerely, Abriella."

Mortola was surprised. She hadn't thought that Abriella had a true purpose for escaping. The girl could have stayed away, and no one would have known where she was. Instead, she sent a message to the Adderhead, informing him exactly of her whereabouts, and those of Silvertongue. What a stupid, stupid girl.

Mortola turned to Firefox, who was standing just behind the Adderhead's chair, and to the left. "Take a troop of men and bring Silvertongue here," she ordered. "I want him alive."

Firefox folded his arms across his chest defiantly.

"Do as she says," the Adderhead ordered, surprising everyone.

"Would you like to send a reply?" The messenger asked, surprising everyone in the room. They had forgotten he was there.

The Adderhead made a motion, one that was almost imperceptible, and said, "No."

With that, Firefox strode over to the cowering man, his sword drawn, and neatly sliced off his head in one clean stroke. The messenger's head rolled over to rest at Mortola's feet. It stared up at her in fear. Mortola looked at Firefox, who was cleaning his blade on the dead messenger's body.

"Do it," was all she said before storming off.

"What are my instructions?" Firefox asked once Mortola had left.

"Bring back everyone there," the Adderhead said, allowing a servant to wipe his fingers. "Bring me Silvertongue, his witchy daughter, his wife, and everyone else in the camp. But especially bring me Abriella."

-

I smiled at Corwin, feeling happier than I had ever been before in my life. I was standing beside him in the middle of Ombra square. Farid was juggling about eight flaming torches, tossing them so high that the crowd of people had to look way up to see where they were. I was holding Corwin's hand, and when I looked at him, he gave me a smile that I knew he would only bestow upon me.

It had been just over two weeks since I had left the Castle of Night, that terrible place where death walks the halls. I hardly thought about my old life. I tried not to. If I did, I would remember the message that I had sent, which would betray Silvertongue, and probably result in my losing Corwin's trust. So, to resolve that problem, I forgot about it and pretended it didn't exist. As a result, I was happy, and didn't think at all about the message I had sent.

I smiled at Corwin again, and he smiled back that wonderful smile. I was holding his hand, and he squeezed mine encouragingly. I had been practicing for several days for today. It was to be my first time performing for a crowd. I had sung myself to death over the past few days, and was just about sick of the song I was to sing, but there was no other option. I didn't have anything else to sing… well, almost nothing.

There was a song I had been working on that could express how I felt about Corwin. I didn't know how to put my feelings into words, and so I was trying to put them into song, with the help of Rupert, the minstrel who I practiced with. He was one of the few men in the world who understood what it felt like to care about someone, and not know how to express it. It was he who was writing the music, and we wrote the lyrics together. I was planning on using the song as a surprise, but I didn't know for when.

After tossing the torches in the air one more time, Farid caught them and bowed. The applause was thunderous. I was to be next, and I was petrified. What if someone booed? What if they all booed? What if they threw vegetables at me?

My legs seemed frozen in place. People began to disperse as Farid started to put away his torches and the other things that he had used for his act.

Corwin leaned forward and put his lips near my ear to whisper. "I know you'll do great," he said. "I have faith in you."

"Thank you," I whispered back.

After a taking a deep breath, I took the stage. I had been practicing a song about the Bluejay, and I hoped I would do well.

"_Bright hope arises from the dark_

_And makes the mighty tremble._

_Princes can't fail to see his mark,_

_Nor can they now dissemble._

_With hair like moleskin smooth and black_

_And mask of blue jay feathers,_

_He vows wrongdoers to attack,_

_Strikes princes in all weathers._

_He hunts their game_

_He robs their gold –_

_And him they would have slain._

_But he's away, he will not stay,_

_They seek the Jay in vain."_

The small amount of people who had stayed clapped politely, a feat which escaped my attention. I was just happy that they were clapping at all. I was so happy, that I nodded to Rupert to play the song we had been writing. The song was still a work in progress, so it was understandable when Rupert raised an eyebrow. I nodded again, and he shrugged and began to play the slightly haunting melody.

"_Where once was dark,_

_There breathes light._

_Where once was death,_

_There now breathes life._

_I know I tried;_

_I tried and failed._

_But now I know_

_It's to avail._

_Where once was doubt,_

_There now breathes hope._

_Where once was pain,_

_There now lives peace._

_I'm filled with awe_

_At what I feel._

_I'm filled with wonder_

_At what might be real._

_Where once was sorrow,_

_There now is joy._

_Where once was hate,_

_There now breathes love._

This time the applause was thunderous. Corwin was clapping as well, but his face was serious. He knew, then, that it was a song for him. He knew that I had written it so that I could express how I felt. Did he feel the same? I didn't know, but I also didn't dare ask.

I stepped down from the makeshift stage and went to him. "What did you think?" I asked. "How did I do?"

After a long moment, he put his arm around me, and I could tell he was forcing a smile. "I loved it," he said. But he didn't say he loved me.

A little disappointed, but not without hope, I followed him back to camp.

-

Mortola turned a corner and headed back towards Selena's room. She had forgotten her whip there, and she was on her way to retrieve it. She was disappointed that she hadn't gotten anything out of Selena, but she also knew the whereabouts of Abriella, through a different means.

But when she opened the door, she was given one of the few shocks of her life. Her whip, apparently, had been put to a different use than what Mortola had used it for. Selena's feet dangled, limp and lifeless, same as the rest of her. Her head was titled at an odd angle, and her eyes were clouded over, dark and without life. Wrapped around her neck was Mortola's whip. Droplets of blood ran down Selena's back, down her leg, and dripped down onto the blue rug, staining it red.

Mortola, slightly disgusted by Selena's lack of self-control, retrieved the chair that had fallen to the ground when the woman had hung herself. She stood it up and stood on it to retrieve her whip. When she removed the whip from around Selena's neck, her hands were shaking. She didn't know why. It wasn't as though she hadn't seen the like before. Selena dropped to the floor like a stone. She crumpled to the ground in a heap, her arm and head at an odd angle, and her right shoulder exposed because of how her dress was torn at the back.

Mortola unwrapped her whip from around the rafters, where Selena had hung it, and coiled it around her shoulder. Then she strode out of the room, never looking back. She slammed the door closed behind her, not caring if Selena's body was left to rot there.

**A/N: Okay, there is chapter seven. Review, please! CC is welcome, but please, no flames!**


	8. The Wayless Wood

Chapter 8 – The Wayless Wood

Firefox hated this wood. He hated the bushes, he hated the trees, and he hated the accursed fairies insistently tugging on his hair, wanting his red locks for their nests. The snuffling sounds of animals in the dark unnerved him, and it made him want to throw a knife into the dark. But that would be a waste of a good knife.

As Firefox and his men trampled through the underbrush, cutting their way through trees branches and ferns, Firefox couldn't help but think of how stupid it was that the Adderhead had insisted that they keep away from the main road, and instead cut through the trees. What a stupid, stupid idea. It was going to take Firefox and his men weeks, at this rate, to so much as make a dent in their trip. They had to find some other way to get to Ombra, without disobeying the Adderhead's orders.

Besides, it wasn't like the appearance of Firefox and a few choice men would cause someone to ring the alarum bells, and sound the trumpets for war. Sure, the Adderhead wanted to control the Realm of the Laughing Prince, but he wasn't after that just yet. Besides, his grandson, Jacopo, would probably do the controlling for him, and eventually give the land to his grandfather. Anyone who saw the young Prince with his grandfather would be able to tell immediately that the boy admired the Adderhead.

After what seemed like hours, Firefox ordered his men to stop and make camp. Of course, that entailed that they needed to make a clearing. Firefox wasn't about to go looking for a clearing. He would make one. At least, his men would make one. Firefox also wasn't about to go about hacking away at the trees again. He had been doing it all day, and he was exhausted. He was also selfish and self centered, which accounted for why he didn't want to do it.

His men got to work clearing a small space. After two hours of hacking away at the tough branches, the men had only cleared a small area, enough for one tent. Firefox decided that his men would have to find their own little cleared spot if they wanted to sleep in a tent. This angered them, but Firefox threatened them with the authority that he had by being the Adderhead's herald.

Firefox had his men set up his own tent, and then sent two of them off to hunt for some supper, and the rest to make a fire and prepare whilst Firefox himself sat in his warm, dry tent and pondered a better way to get to Ombra that didn't entail hacking through miles of trees, bushes, and any other kind of underbrush.

The men who were sent to get supper grumbled about how unfair it was, and there was no way they were going to find anything with all the stomping the small troop of men had done earlier in the day.

The rain pattered down on Firefox's tent, alerting him that his men would have a tough time starting a fire, and their moral was going to be extremely low.

Firefox hated the rain. He hated it almost as much as he hated everything else about the stupid forest. There was no way to escape it, and it infuriated him. He thought of the Adderhead, probably feasting on roast peacock right then and there. Or perhaps he was having roast swan, which he sometimes ate when it was wet and rainy outside. The Adderhead was warm and dry in his silver castle overlooking the sea, while Firefox was out here in this thrice accursed forest, looking for that damned Silvertongue and his damned daughter, and that stupid, damned Abriella, who was pulling them along on this witch hunt. He hated them all.

Firefox enjoyed complaining, though, even if he was the only one to hear it.

When his men returned, Firefox immediately knew that they had returned empty-handed. So much for having a hot supper. That night, some of the men insisted on sleeping in Firefox's tent, whether he wanted them to or not. Firefox held them off at sword-point for a bit, but then finally relented.

That night, Firefox didn't sleep very well. His tent was warm, alright, and it was somewhat dry. But it was just about filled to bursting with his men, who had _all_ decided that they were going to sleep somewhere dry, and Firefox's tent was the place to do it.

When they continued on their way the next day, Firefox was in a worse mood than before. His butt was sore from sleeping on the ground, and he didn't feel at all refreshed. And if he didn't feel refreshed, his took his frustration out on his men, not caring if their moral was low enough as it was.

His only hope was that they would reach Ombra in the next few days (to hope for the next few hours, or even minutes, was too much), and then he would be able to drag Silvertongue, his witchy daughter, and everyone else he loved, back to the Castle of Night, and to the gallows. That prospect was quite enjoyable, and Firefox began thinking of ways in which he could taunt Silvertongue and his family when the time came.

But in the meantime, he had to make sure that his men didn't mutiny on him, if that was even possible when in the middle of a stupid forest like the Wayless Wood.

-

A few days later, Firefox and his men were able to see the city of Ombra from among the trees. They had arrived, and thank God they had. One more day with these stupid men, and Firefox would have done the Selena thing and hung himself from one of these accursed trees.

They made camp where they were and planned their next move by the light of the fire.

**A/N: Sorry that that chapter is so short, but I figured since Cornelia Funke sometimes wrote short chapters for Inkheart, I could do the same. Review, please, and let me know what you think. CC is welcome, but flames are not.**


	9. Betrayal

Chapter 9 – Betrayal

Today was going to be a good day. I could feel it in the crisp morning air. Corwin was talking to me again. He had spent a day or so not speaking to anyone, and it had frightened me. I thought I had pushed him away with the song I had written for him. But I was glad that he was talking to me again, even if he didn't mention the song at all.

Corwin and I were sitting in front of a secluded fire, watching the flames leap into the air, the sparks shattering into minuscule particles that couldn't be seen. I watched the flames leap and dance around in the air, feeling at peace with the world. I had never felt so happy before.

I was leaning against Corwin, his arms around me. I breathed in his scent, which was the smell of pine, oak, and cinnamon all rolled into one, to create an incredible fragrance that would forever be locked in my memory.

Just as I was trying to think of a way to bring up the subject of the song again to Corwin, I heard something that chilled me to the bone: A shriek of fright.

Corwin and I jumped up at the same time, both ready to help whoever was in danger.

We ran to the main area of the camp, and my heart lept into my throat. From the trees, dozens of men were running, yelling war cries and holding their swords high. On their breasts was the symbol of the Adderhead. The green snake on a silver background gave them away, and I knew immediately that these were the men that the Adderhead had sent to capture Silvertongue and his daughter. But then why were they attacking everyone?

I spotted Firefox among the confusion. He was battling… Corwin!

I called Corwin's name, but he didn't hear me through the sounds of screams, and the clashing of swords against knives. They couldn't win. I knew they couldn't. It was the strolling players against trained fighters. They didn't stand a chance.

Just then, a man on horseback swept through the crowd, grabbed me around the waist, and pulled me onto his horse.

"Let me go!" I screamed, and bit his hand. He shrieked, and dropped me, where I was nearly trampled by his horses hooves.

Even as I cowered behind a tree, I knew that this had been my fault. I couldn't believe that I had caused this much pain and suffering. I thought of Abby, and I began to cry. I had told myself that the Adderhead would only go after Silvertongue, but I was stupid to believe that. He hated the strolling players; he always had. There was no way, in any world, that he would ever leave the strolling players to themselves.

I covered my face and tried to think happy thoughts. But all I could think of was blood, gore, death and decay. My mind could not conjure up the happiness that I had felt only moments ago.

Then someone grabbed my arm and hauled me up. "I've got her!" The man yelled. I recognized the voice. It was Firefox.

The strolling players had been rounded up, and they looked bloody and beaten, bruised and sore. I spotted Corwin among them. He was tied up and his bear was muzzled. It was struggling and growling, trying to free itself. But with a touch from Corwin, the bear quieted.

"No," I whispered.

Corwin looked directly at me, and I knew that he could see the guilt on my face. I knew because I could see the hurt on his; the feeling of betrayal.

"I'm sorry," I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"Did you hear that, men?" Firefox laughed. "She didn't mean it." He mocked my voice, and pretended as though he was me for a few minutes while I took the ridicule in silence.

"Why?" Corwin demanded, anger seeping into his voice.

"I knew she couldn't be trusted!" Elinor declared, and she received a blow to the stomach from one of Firefox's men as an answer.

"Why?" Corwin demanded again.

"I wanted to help my mother," I said simply. "It was the only way I could think of to earn Mortola's respect."

"What?" Elinor asked, turning to Silvertongue. "Mortimer, what in the world is she talking about?"

Silvertongue looked at me for a moment, and then the Prince. "I could tell from her appearance," he said finally. "She's Capricorn's daughter."

For once, Elinor was speechless. Then she started to talk more than ever. "Who would have thought that any woman would want to be with that monster?" She asked.

"For your information, whether my mother wanted to or not was not her choice," I replied haughtily, while Firefox had his arm wrapped around my waist. "He would have taken her either way."

Elinor fell silent again, having lost her tongue.

"Let's go, men," Firefox said. "We have to take this back to the Adderhead."

"You died," Silvertongue said suddenly, point at Firefox. "I saw you die. I was there when Basta ran you through."

Firefox smiled a near-toothless smile. His face became supercilious. "You watched my brother die," he replied with a sneer. "I have replaced him, and let me say, I'm glad he's dead."

With those words, he galloped off with me on his horse, leaving the prisoners to be rounded up and taken across the border to Argenta.

-

We traveled for several days before we reached the Adderhead's domain. I hadn't had a chance to speak to Corwin since we had been captured. He wouldn't have spoken to me anyway, though. I was sure he hated me, and I was right.

When I finally got a chance to speak to him, he glared at me in silence, and then turned his back on me.

"Please," I said. "Please, talk to me."

"I kissed you!" He hissed. "I kissed you, and you betrayed me. That can never be forgiven."

I knew that I had an expression of hurt on my face. I turned away and left him, curling up by myself on a plain pallet and staring up at the sky. How could I have been so stupid? I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and land in the curve of my neck, but I didn't bother to wipe it away. I let the tears run down my cheeks, as the rest of the camp slept.

**AN: There's chapter nine. Review, please, and let me know what you think! CC is welcome, flames are not. :)**


	10. Sorrow

Chapter 10 – Sorrow

I kept my head down and didn't talk to anyone. I was in mourning, although no one had died. I was mourning the loss of someone I loved, though he still lived. I wanted to tell Corwin that I hadn't thought that Mortola would want to capture the strolling players as well. But as I thought this, and tried to think what to tell him, I saw how stupid this was. Mortola obeyed the Adderhead, not the other way around. If the Adderhead – who hated the Motley Folk – wanted the strolling players captured, there was nothing that Mortola could do to change that.

We marched through pouring rain while Firefox yelled random orders at his men, and kicked some elderly people who were falling behind. Abby was among the women and children, and she looked up when I glanced her way. I turned my head away. I was so ashamed.

I knew then that I would do anything to change what I had done, and to make up for it. I loved Corwin – I knew that now. But I also knew that he despised me, and probably wished he had never kissed me.

We didn't stop walking until midday. I could tell that the prisoners were hungry, tired, and soaked through. I felt the same, but I wasn't going to allow myself to give in. I tried redeeming myself by taking the food that I had been given, and secretly giving it to the children, so that they could last. I knew what would happen if they didn't; I had seen it too many times when Capricorn had been alive. They would be pushed into the dirt, and they were too small to fight back. Such injustice I hated, but I could do no more than share my meager food with them, as the strolling players weren't being fed. Firefox didn't believe in feeding prisoners.

I caught Corwin eyeing me as I shared my food, but I avoided his gaze. Abby looked at me, surprise in her face. She was soaked through. I took my cloak – the soaked and dripping one I was wearing – and gave it to her, hoping it might help to alleviate her shivering.

I held some of the children in my lap until my legs fell asleep, trying to use my body heat to warm them up. They were small, thin, and could barely stand. They needed a hug. Most of the children were orphans, and their clothes were tattered. They were shivering, and no matter how much I held them and rubbed their arms and legs, they didn't stop.

Corwin came over and held some of them, too. We sat there, on the damp grass in silence, rubbing the children's legs, and holding them close. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw that he was watching me.

"I am sorry," I said softly, so that he could hear but the children couldn't.

He didn't say anything; he just shrugged. That hurt more than any words he could have said, because it meant it didn't matter to him anymore. It did matter. It was important that he forgive me. If he didn't, I would never be able to forgive myself.

-

We reached the Castle of Night several days later. It was still as overbearing and frightening as when I left. The walls glowed a sickly pallor, and they gleamed in the moonlight. The guards were different. Obviously, they had been punished for not paying enough attention to catch me.

Four of the six gallows were still full. Two of the men were wearing the colors of the strolling players. The Adderhead was welcoming his guests warmly, it seemed.

I became angry, and clenched my fists. Firefox had his arms around my waist, to "prevent me from running off" as he said. He used it as an opportunity to grab at me. I bit his hand once when he tried to grab my breast, and then he stopped. But I think he relished the idea that he had some power over me.

In the courtyard, I was separated from the other prisoners, and taken to see the Adderhead at once. I heard a player mutter something about payment. I hoped he was wrong. I didn't want to be paid for my crime.

I approached the Adderhead with quick, sure steps, so that Firefox had trouble keeping up. I wanted to ask for my mother's amnesty. I knew I had already asked for it in my letter, but I also knew that the Adderhead would pretend to have forgotten.

"Where is my mother?" I demanded the moment I stood in front of him. Like most evenings, he was sitting at his table, his porcelain wife beside him, looking tired and worn out, and stuffing his face. This time, it was roast swan. I swallowed the bile that rose up in my mouth. I didn't want to know the reason for his aphelia with birds.

The Adderhead finished chewing, swallowed, and held out his hands for a servant to wipe them. The servant did so, and I saw him grimace as he was forced to wipe the Adderhead's mouth. That same mouth curved into a smile when the servant stepped back. "She's safe," he said.

"Where?" I demanded. Firefox stood behind me, his hand on my shoulder, just beside my throat. I shrugged him off. "Where is she?" My voice rose.

"She's dead," Mortola said, walking into the room. "She hung herself with my whip. Can you believe that?" Her question was rhetorical.

I just about choked on my own spit. "What?" I asked, shocked. The pain on my face was as plain as day. "No!" I screamed. I turned on Mortola. "You killed her, you bitch!" I screamed, cussing harshly, so that she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Is that any way to talk to your grandmother?" She asked calmly.

"You are _not_ my grandmother!" I spat. "You are a witch, who thinks herself a goddess!" Firefox held me back. If he hadn't, I would have strangled her then and there.

Mortola looked at me without feeling, and then turned away. "Get rid of her," she said. "I never want to see that girl here again."

"In case you haven't forgotten," the Adderhead began, "I am the one in charge here, and I shall do with her what I will." Mortola glared at me for a moment, and then stormed off.

"What did you do with her body?" I demanded after she had left, trying to wrestle my arms free from Firefox's grasp.

The Adderhead picked at his teeth with his butcher's fingers. He looked at what was on his fingers and then flicked it away. He waved a hand at me. "I had my men throw it in the ocean," he said dismissively. I nearly fainted. "I wasn't going to waist any of my money on a burial."

"Waist?" I hissed, fury making my voice dangerously low.

The Adderhead made a motion to Firefox, who grabbed both my arms more firmly and dragged me to my room, closing and locking the door behind him as he left.

I screamed in frustration and stormed about the room, stomping my feet, for a good ten minutes before I screamed again, and buried my face in my pillow. I crawled under my covers and pulled them over my head like I had done when I was small, and it would thundershower.

The rain pattered my window, and lightning flashed. Mother was gone. I would never see her again, never hear her voice singing me lullabies, never hear her laughter as I insulted the Adderhead, Firefox, Mortola, and the Piper in secret with her. She was gone, and no matter where I went – the Wayless Wood, Lombrica, or Argenta – she wouldn't be there. I was an orphan and I had never felt so alone.

I heard a thunderclap and the rain came down harder, mimicking the tears trickling down my cheeks. Together, we poured our sorrows out into the night.

**AN: There's chapter 10. It's a little short, I know. But I think it's more of a filler than anything. So, review, please, and leave me some CC. Flames are NOT appreciated, and will be reported, so please keep your reviews kind.**


	11. A Possible Redemption

Chapter 11 – A Possible Redemption

I lay on my bed, my eyes tear-stained. I was only half-conscious. I woke up when I heard an unfamiliar voice whisper my name.

"Abriella!" It said. "Wake up!"

I sat up and rubbed my eyes as someone shook me awake. I blinked in the light of an oil lamp. The face I looked into surprised me so much that I rubbed my eyes again in disbelief. It was the Adderhead's china doll wife. What had her name been? Ariana? Yes, that was her name. What was she doing there?

"What is it?" I asked, yawning and throwing back my covers. I was still fully dressed, wearing the same dress I had worn when I had left the Castle of Night several weeks before.

Ariana backed up and stood tall. She was my height, and she stood before me with a kind of pride that I hadn't known she possessed.

"I know how you feel," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I once loved a man," she said, a dreamy look taking over her eyes. "He was the most wonderful man in the world." Her expression grew cloudy. "But the Adderhead had him killed and took me for his own." She looked down at me. "I don't want you to go through the same thing I went through. So come," she beckoned to me from the doorway, "I will take you to your Prince."

"Why?" I whispered, grabbing a robe – because it was cold in the Castle of Night when the sun wasn't shining – and following behind her as she strode down the castle halls, as though she traversed them all the time. "Shouldn't you be with your husband?" I asked in a whisper.

"He is sleeping – for once," she said. "I gave him something in his tea to help him sleep. He will be asleep for a good three hours. But believe you me – I doubt it will last that long on someone as stubborn as he is."

I nodded. I didn't have much time.

She led me down and down until we reached the door that led down into the prison below the Castle of Night. I had never been there before, and I now knew why – it smelled of rotting flesh, human excrement, and bile. The guards standing at the gate crossed their spears and wouldn't let us pass until they had proof that the Adderhead had allowed us to pass. Ariana produced a piece of paper signed by the Adderhead, and sealed in black wax with his signet ring. I didn't ask how she had gotten him to sign the papers, allowing us to pass.

The guards, who were mostly illiterate, wouldn't let us pass until Ariana demanded, in a voice that demanded respect, "Would you like to join the Bluejay and his minions at the gallows when it comes time? Or will you let us through? My _husband_, the _Adderhead_, will be very angry if he finds out that you disobeyed his direct orders." She stood proud, her belly sticking out, and that was when I realized that she was pregnant again. Poor woman. The Adderhead would probably get rid of the child now that he already had an heir.

The guards finally let us pass, and Ariana led me down the steps as the stench wafting up them grew stronger and stronger, until I thought I would choke on the fumes. We reached the bottom of the steep steps after about five minutes. I had never encountered a set of stairs that led so far underground.

Ariana led me past several closed, barred, doors. I didn't want to look and see what was inside. I was afraid of seeing a dead body covered in rats.

We reached the cell where the Motley Folk were after another five minutes. Judging by what Ariana had said earlier, I had even less time than before to talk to Corwin.

"Prince?" I whispered, kneeling down on the filthy straw that smelled of urine. "It's me, Abriella."

Corwin came forward, his face difficult to distinguish from the stone walls. "Your master let you come and interrogate us, did he?" He asked, the scorn obvious in his voice.

I took his insults very well, surprising myself. "No," I said. "I want to apologize again, and I want to help."

"You've done enough," he said, and began to turn away.

I reached through the bars and grabbed his tunic in my pale white hand, so different from his own. "Corwin," I whispered in a hushed voice, so gently that no one else heard me but him. He stopped. "Please," I said. "Let me help. I'm the only one who can."

He turned back to me. "Kill the Adderhead," he said in a whisper.

"How?" I asked. "He's surrounded by guards."

Just then, Silvertongue's daughter came up to me. I hadn't realized she was with the strolling players. "You have to find the book," she hissed. She had overheard us. "Find the book my father bound for the Adderhead; the one that makes him immortal. Only that can kill him."

"I don't understand," I whispered back.

"Destroy the book," she whispered. "And he will no longer be immortal. Then he can be killed."

"We have to go now," Ariana whispered. "The guards are going to change in a minute, and the Adderhead won't stay asleep forever."

I grasped Corwin's hand for a brief moment, and whispered in his ear, "He's as good as dead." Then I stood and left, letting Ariana take me back to my room.

Once there, I turned to her. "Ariana," I said. "I need your help."

"Just tell me what you need," she said.

I explained to her what I needed her to do, and she agreed. But we couldn't do it that night; we needed at least a day to prepare.

I returned to my bed, and she returned to hers. I didn't know about her, but I dreamt I was in Corwin's arms, while the Adderhead held a sword pointed at my throat. I woke up again an hour before dawn and couldn't get back to sleep, the image of the Adderhead's snarling butcher's face looming over me too frightening.

**AN: Another super short chapter, but less of a filler. I wanted to write something quick so I could allow the story to progress sooner. – And so I wouldn't get trampled by angry reviewers demanding and update. :) JK. Review, please, and let me know what you think. No flames, please.**


	12. Just One Problem

Chapter 12 – "Just one Problem…"

The next day, Ariana and I prepared to put our plan into action. I befriended the serving maid who brought the prisoners meager meals, and asked her to tell the others that help was on the way. I didn't give any detail other than that. I was sure that Corwin and Silvertongue's daughter would understand, and if caught, I didn't want the serving maid to get into trouble.

While I did that, among other little details, like getting the fire ready in my room, and in every other room along the hall that Ariana was supposed to traverse, Ariana herself did her part by wooing the Adderhead, being comfy, cozy, and cuddling up to him, a job she did well, and she was good at. The Adderhead was no fool, of course, and obviously suspected something. Of course, he also did not think that his painted china doll of a wife would be able to stand up to him. He was wrong.

It was close to midnight the next day by the time I was able to speak to Ariana alone again. She had finally been able to drug the Adderhead again. She didn't think she'd be able to do it a third time.

"Are you ready?" I asked softly. "Did you get it?"

"No," she shook her head. "I couldn't. He wouldn't tell me where, even in his sleep."

"Where would he keep something so precious?" I asked, half to myself.

Ariana exclaimed quietly to herself.

"What?" I demanded. "Tell me!"

"He sometimes goes away, for hours at a time, to a place that is hidden and secret. He never tells anyone where it is, but it's in the Castle, because he comes and goes as he pleases, without transport. He would never walk someplace if it was outside the Castle."

"Ariana! You're a genius!" I exclaimed. She blushed. "Now we just need to find out where this place is."

Ariana smiled. "Already taken care of," she said. "I followed him one time. I didn't like it that he was going off. For all I knew, he was doing something strange and demented. If so, the people were sure to revolt. And the most important thing of all" – here she lowered her voice until it was barely audible – "he only started going there after the Bluejay bound that book for him."

"Well?" I demanded. "Where is it?"

"There's just one problem," she said.

"What now?" I asked.

"He has the key with him at all times."

"What? Only that? That's nothing compared to what we've been through already." I grabbed her arm. "Come on. Let's go get that key."

"You don't understand," she said, pulling away from me.

"What?" I asked.

"He has it with him, _at all times_," she said, lowering her eyes demurely. "You can't just take it with you. He keeps it on a long chain that hangs around his neck, and then tucked into a closed pocket on the inside of his clothes."

"I see," I said, feeling frustrated.

"I will get it for you," Ariana said, "if you want me to. I have nothing to lose but my life."

"What about the life of your child?" I asked softly.

"The child's as good as dead anyways," she said, a small tear trickling down her cheek. "He won't keep her."

"How do you know it's a girl?" I asked.

"Sometimes, you just know these things," she said, and I nodded. I knew that feeling.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "It's your choice."

"I know," she said.

"Be careful," I replied, and I hugged her for encouragement.

Then she went off, and I stayed in my room, waiting for her. When she returned and hour later, her face was ashen.

"I have it," she said. "But don't ask me how I got it. Let's just hurry, and get the book before he wakes."

I nodded, and together we hurried through the darkened corridors of the Castle of Night. I was scared, but I knew that I couldn't worry about that just then. I had more important things to worry about, like Corwin and the rest of the Motley Folk. They needed my help more than ever.

She led me to her and the Adderhead's chambers, and opened a door right beside it. Her hands fiddled with the key in the lock. Finally, I took it from her, my hands shaking just as much as hers, and was able to open the lock after about three minutes – minutes in which every nerve was on edge, and I was feeling the pressure.

The door squealed on rusty hinges, and both of us cringed. We waited a moment in silence. When nothing happened, we both slipped through the small opening, and closed the door behind us. Oddly enough, when it swung closed, the door didn't make a sound.

The moment the door was closed, we were surrounded in darkness. The only light came from the oil lamp that Ariana held in her shaking hand. We stepped forward a few paces, and the book came into sight. It was bound in plain leather, and was at least several hundred pages thick. It was sitting on a pedestal made of marble, and the light from the lamp cast shadows upon its cover.

I slowly and careful – almost reverently – went up to it. Ariana followed, and I heard her quiet whimpering in that silence, like the buzzing of a fly. I stroked the binding of the book and, after a moment's hesitation, picked it up.

-

Lying in his bed chamber, the Adderhead snorted in his sleep, and his eyes flew open. Something was off. He turned on his side, and saw that his wife wasn't there, lying in bed beside him. Something was definitely off.

He rang a bell to call his guards.

-

Nothing happened. I didn't know what I had been thinking would happen. I felt sure though that, somehow, the Adderhead knew. A moment later, my suspicions were confirmed, when the sound of a bell tinkling rang throughout the hall outside.

It came from the Adderhead's room.

Ariana and I looked at each other, terror mirrored in each other's faces. We would die before anything could be done.

**AN: I know! I know! Another short chapter. I can't afford to put so many, but Cornelia Funke does it all the time, so why can't I? The plot thickens! Well, as much as I would like to keep writing this story – and I WILL finish it! Breathe, Rena, breathe! – I can't write forever like Cornelia Funke. So, FYI, it certainly won't be thirty-something chapters long. I'm not that great a writer that I can prolong the agony, although I probably could have if I had bothered with Meggie's opinion more than Abriella's.**

**Anyways, review, please, and let me know what you think. CC is welcome, flames are not. :)**


	13. Meggie's Plan

Chapter 13 – Meggie's Plan

Meggie sat there, beside her father and Fenoglio, waiting for Abriella to return and tell them that the Adderhead was dead, or that he was at the very least, no longer invincible. She didn't want to think that perhaps Abriella would fail.

"Fenoglio?" She whispered into the dark. The old man with the face wrinkled like a tortoise turned to her. "Can you write something to help us?" She asked. "I'm scared."

The old man looked at her sadly. "My dear," he said, "without some paper and a pen, I can do nothing to help you." Meggie's downcast face touched his heart. "Besides," he added, "I have sworn off writing anything for good. Anything I write that you read just turns out for the worse.

"It didn't when you wrote something to heal Mo!" She protested in a voice that caught the attention of the Black Prince. She lowered her voice again. "Please, Fenoglio!" She begged. "You're the only one who can do it!"

"What about that one over there?" The old man pointed to a sullen-looking younger man sitting on the other side of the cell. He wore a pair of bottle-bottom lenses, and was looking so sad that Meggie had to turn her head away, even if she didn't like him.

"Orpheus didn't create this story!" She hissed. "You did! And only you can change it for the better."

Fenoglio stared at the dirt floor, thinking. Then he raised his head to face Meggie. My God, he thought. Her pleading face looks just like my grandchildren. For the first time in a year, he felt a twinge of homesickness. He shook his head at Meggie's pleading face, and a tear trickled down her cheek and landed on her skirt. "No, my dear," he said. "I can't do anything without paper and a pen or pencil – and the stubs that your dear mother keeps with her won't be enough."

She stared at the dirt floor, disappointed. Even the stone did not exist there. She spotted a stick lying on the ground. She didn't know how it got there, but she picked it up and wrote her name on the ground. It reminded her of when, a year ago, she had carved her name in the wall of a shed with her bicycle key. How long ago that seemed.

Meggie stared at her name written in the dirt, thinking, and slowly, and idea came to her. She looked in Mo's direction. He and Resa were leaning up against each other, and both their eyes were closed.

She turned to Fenoglio, who was sitting on the ground looking like he was in pain. He was old, though, so that was to be expected. "Fenoglio?" Meggie asked. He turned to her. "I have an idea. What if you write what I'm supposed to read in the dirt, and then we can just erase it after I've read it? No one will know."

He looked at her blankly for a moment, processing this idea. "Meggie!" He declared, calling attention to himself. He lowered his voice, but only slightly. Mortimer didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. "You're brilliant!"

She blushed while Fenoglio set to work. He first told the Black Prince, who informed anyone that if they trampled on what he was writing, there would be serious consequences. Then Fenoglio set to work writing. He scribbled with his finger on the ground, swiping his sleeve across it whenever he didn't like something. There was such an expression of focus and concentration in his face, that Meggie didn't dare disturb him.

Hours passed, and no one came, so they didn't need to worry about blocking Fenoglio's scribbles from the view of the guards – there weren't any guards in the vicinity to see his scribbles.

After about a day had passed since Abriella had showed up and offered her help, Fenoglio sat back on his haunches and said, in a voice of declaration, "I've done it again, Meggie."

"Let me see," she leaned forward to read it while Fenoglio explained what his thought process had been while he had been writing. It was good, just like she had known it would be.

"It would have taken longer, but I myself know how quickly the Adderhead likes to dispatch of his prisoners, so I decided to hurry it up," Fenoglio said, a little smugly.

"It's good," Meggie murmured. She looked up at him. "You're the genius."

This time, he blushed. Clearing his throat, he grumbled something out, and said, "You should read it now, Meggie, while there's still time."

She nodded and looked over to where the Black Prince was sitting by the bars. He met her gaze, and she nodded at him. The Prince stood, and said in a loud, clear voice, "If anyone says anything in the next ten minutes, he will be severely punished. We need absolute silence."

Mo turned to look at Meggie. He had been distracted, and hadn't been paying attention while Fenoglio had been scribbling on the dirt floor. "What's going on?" He asked. He looked at the scribbles on the floor, and back at Meggie. "Please tell me you're not going to read words that were written in the dirt," he said, his eyes pleading.

She squared her shoulders. "It's the only way out of here," she said, and began to read.

_"The night was dark, and the moon was covered by clouds,"_ she read. _"Down, down deep in the Adderhead's dungeons, below the ground, where the air smelled of sweat and rotting flesh, and the moans of the dying mourning the dead echoed down the halls and past the barred cages where the living dwelt, waiting for Death to come._

_The guards that passed by the cages every now and then were tired, and bored; they had nothing to do, and they hated their master, the Adderhead, who made them guard half-dead prisoners who couldn't escape if their lives depended on it – which they did._

_But this night, one guard couldn't stand it anymore. He couldn't take being the dog to a master like the Adderhead. His family had suffered greatly because of the Adderhead, and so he wanted revenge._

_So he decided to release the prisoners, arm them, and give them a chance to defeat the Adderhead. He knew it would mean his head if he did it, but at that point, all alone in the world, he didn't care."_

Footsteps could be heard coming down the bleak corridor, and a torchlight shined on the filthy stone walls. But Meggie read on.

_"He convinced his fellows to follow him, and together, the group of men approached the cage where the Black Prince, the man known as the Bluejay and an old, bent man known only as the Inkweaver."_

The light grew brighter as Meggie finished, and a large troop of guards appeared. One of them, a man with a hardened, determined face, approached the cell and, pulling out a ring of keys, unlocked it. It made a hard, grating sound.

Meggie, Mo, Resa, Elinor, Darius, Farid, Fenoglio, and the Black Prince all stood up. The rest of the prisoners were still filled with awe, and the magic of Meggie's reading still hung over them. But when the guard spoke, then they came out of their stupor.

"We're setting you free," he said, handing Mo a sword.

Meggie shivered at the sight. She remembered how Mo had swung another sword high in the air, and had killed Basta. She shivered again. She didn't want to think about it.

"All the able-bodied men are being given weapons, and you can do what you want. But if you get caught, this was all done by you. We had nothing to do with it."

Mo nodded, and all the men proceeded to gather weapons. Meggie grabbed a small sword that looked like the one that Frodo might have used in the Lord of the Rings. Something like a story by JRR Tolkien was so unfamiliar in this world, that Meggie felt herself suddenly longing for Elinor's house. She didn't want to think about what was to come.

Farid grabbed a sword, and reclaimed his knife. The Black Prince armed himself. The head guard turned to him. "Your bear is waiting for you in the courtyard," he said. The Prince nodded. "What about Abriella?" He asked.

The guard shrugged. "She's probably licking her wounds," he said.

The Prince looked at the guard, puzzled.

"You don't know?" The guard asked. "Mortola has a new fetish," he said. "She likes to beat her prisoners. That was how Selena, Abriella's mother, was forced to hang herself." He sighed. "I probably would have done the same thing."

The Prince's face became even darker than before, if that was possible, and his lips became a hard, thin line. He was obviously trying to control his anger. "Let's go," he said after a long moment. "We can't wait any longer."

Then, followed by everyone else, they stormed up to the stairs, and headed up. When they reached the courtyard, the women and children stayed behind, and one of the guards offered some of his men to help guard them against anyone trying to harm them. Their excuse if someone else came was that the Adderhead was making them stand out in the rain so they would suffer before their husbands and brothers were hanged.

Then Meggie watched with Fenoglio as her father, the Black Prince, Farid, and the other men marched inside the castle.

Before leaving, though, Farid ran to her and kissed her on the mouth. She blushed, but kissed him back. Then he ran off, while the rain ran down Meggie's face, hiding her tears.

Resa put her arm around her daughter, her suspicions confirmed. Her own tears didn't come until Mo and the other men were out of sight.

**AN: There's chapter 13! Review, please! I made it a little longer this time. CC is welcome, flames are not. :)**


	14. The Book of Immortality

Chapter 14 – The Book of Immortality

I was scared out of my wits, and so was Ariana. We were both terrified that the Adderhead was going to find us, and then we'd both end up dead. I wasn't so much concerned for myself, but for Ariana and her baby, who would surely die if the Adderhead got a hold of her.

"We have to get out of here," I said. "But you need to be protected."

Ariana stood almost a head taller than me, but she was much more fragile. And her pregnancy didn't make things any easier. "Pretend to be my prisoner," I said suddenly. She stared at me, horrified.

"No!" She declared in a loud voice of indignation. Voices could be heard out in the corridor, talking. I didn't like the sound of them.

"Yes!" I hissed, and grabbed her by the arm. Then I tucked the book under my other arm, grabbed the lantern from her, broke the glass surrounding it – the flame went out in a huff – and held a shard of glass to her neck. "Don't worry," I whispered as the voices grew louder and I edged towards the door. "I'll get you out of here." I pushed the door open in one swift movement, and stepped out into the hallway.

About two dozen guards stood there, with the Adderhead at the center. When they saw me, they all stopped what they were doing and stared.

"Nobody move, or I slit her throat!" I said, backing away from the guards.

The Adderhead snorted to himself, and said in a voice of disbelief. "You couldn't if you wanted to."

"Oh, no?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I pressed the shard of glass to Ariana's neck so that a bead of blood appeared at the tip. "It sometimes pays to be the daughter of a murderer and fireraiser." I shrugged, feigning indifference. "You get used to it, and you pick up on certain things." My voice hardened. "Like how one life is expendable," I added.

The Adderhead's face became uncertain. He tried to shake it off, but my face must have looked convincing enough, because he gave the order for his men to lower their weapons. "Release the book, and then we can talk about my wife," he said camly. He only cared about the book.

"I don't think so," I said, backing up. "Either your men let me go, or your precious china doll wife gets her throat slit. Which is it going to be?"

There was a long pause, before the Adderhead scoffed. "Take the book, and then kill her," he said.

Ariana made a horrified strangled sound in her throat. "I'm sorry," I whispered in her ear, and threw her at the guards, along with my shard of glass. I didn't stop to see where the shard landed, but I heard a guard yell and several more curse in fury.

I ran down the corridor, the book tucked safely under my arm.

"Get her!" I heard the Adderhead scream. "Get the book!"

I looked behind myself for a split second and turned a corner. I banged into someone on the other side, and when I turned to face forward, I was facing Mortola, who was facing down the barrel of a gun.

I had seen her use it once before, only on the birds that attacked her plants. It was a powerful weapon, built for precision and made with mastering the art of killing in mind. I gulped hard.

There was a roar coming from downstairs. The stairs weren't too far away. I could get away at any time – if it weren't for the fact that I was facing a deadly weapon of destruction.

"Drop the book," Mortola ordered, her voice icy.

I swallowed. "No," I said.

"What did you say to me?" She hissed.

The guards caught up with me then, and stopped when they saw that I was pinned. They were going to have their fun with me now. I didn't want to think about what they would do to me once they had me alone in a room, without protection. For a brief moment, I thought I would end up like my mother – so filled with self-loathing and a low self-esteem, that I end up dangling by the neck from the ceiling of my bedroom. I shuddered.

It was then that the Strolling players, armed to the teeth and terribly angry, appeared on either side of the men. Several of them held weapons at Mortola.

"Not today," I said. "Never."

She looked at them, and smiled superciliously. "You won't be able to touch me before I kill her," she said, her voice hoarse. She raised her gun even higher. She flipped a switch near her face, and I knew she was about to shoot. My only hope would be that she would hit the book, which I planned to hold up in front of my face at the last minute.

But someone else got there first.

"Look out!" Corwin screamed, and he pushed me out of the way just as the rifle went off.

**CRACK!**

It sounded off with a loud bang, shaking me so much that I screamed in terror. I touched my face. I was unharmed. I turned. Corwin's chest was blooming like a morning flower – only his chest bloomed with blood, red as the fire-elves skin.

I screamed again, not caring who heard. "CORWIN!" I knelt down, while everyone, Mortola and the Adderhead included, just stared, stunned that the Black Prince, leader of the Motley Folk, was actually dying.

The bear, enraged, attacked Mortola then. I heard her screams, but I didn't turn. If I had, I probably wouldn't have been able to control myself. I learned later that the bear had completely mutilated her body. When it returned to Corwin's side, it was licking it's muzzle, and I heard several disgusted guards run off, presumably to find a place to vomit.

But I didn't care about them. "No!" I whispered, the tears falling down my cheeks. "You can't leave me! I won't let you! I won't let you!" I pressed on his wound with strips torn from my skirt, already knowing in my heart that it wasn't going to do any good.

Everywhere, the Motley folk were taking off their hats and bowing their heads, knowing just like me that the Black Prince was dying. His bear made a mournful sound.

"He's not dead!" I screamed at the array of men watching me in my bloodied dress press at his wound. "Put your hats back on; he's not dead!" I shrieked the words, hysterical.

His breathing was shallow. He held my hand, his palm strangely pale against his black skin. He spoke then, his voice barely audible. I leaned forward to hear. "I – loved you – from the – start," he whispered, and closed his eyes. His shallow breathing continued, as the tears rolled down my cheeks. I kissed his now-pale mouth, the tears falling to touch my lips, making the kiss taste of salty cinnamon. I didn't let go of his hand, but I felt his grip on mine loosen.

I didn't know what to do, except cry. Silvertongue came up to me and knelt down beside me. He picked up the book, which I had dropped. He held it out to me, as though I was supposed to do something with it.

I stared at it for a moment, thinking about Corwin, and how I would never again find anyone as kind and caring as he was. Then a though came to me among all my grief. I turned to Silvertongue. "You said it doesn't work if its damaged, right?" I asked.

He nodded.

I stood, taking the book from his hands. I looked the Adderhead straight in the eye. "Never again will you hurt me or mine," I said. "Never again." Then, before anyone could say anything, I opened the book, and in one swift movement, tore a single, white sheet of paper from the book.

The whole hallway was deathly silent. The Adderhead didn't move, except to stare. Then Silvertongue, out of the blue, grabbed Mortola's rifle, and shot the Adderhead in his forehead. The ruler of Argenta stared at Silvertongue for a moment, transfixed. Then he fell, face-first, onto the stone, cold, floor.

The piece of paper fluttered to the ground, and in an almost child-like scrawl, was the his true name.

The Adderhead was dead.

**AN: Think it's over? Not yet! A few more chapters, and then it should be done, but not just yet. Review please, and let me know what you think. But no flames, please:)**


	15. Desperation

Chapter 15 – Desperation

I lay there, weeping with grief, while the rest of the Motley Folk and what was left of the Adderhead's men stood around me, the sorrow etched onto their faces. I knew that, even though the Adderhead's guards had been loyal to him, they hadn't liked him. And now they were mourning the loss of someone who was brave enough to stand up to the Adderhead, and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Corwin had never hidden from the Adderhead. He had always remained where he was, allowing the Adder to see him in plain view. The Adder had never before tried to kill him. But I guess this time it was different.

I wept over Corwin's body, although his breathing still came as shallow, ragged breaths, reminding me that he was not yet dead. Silvertongue and his family stood nearby, along with the old man whom Corwin had always called the Inkweaver. He stood there, bent over, and with his face wrinkled like a tortoise, looking sad and forlorn.

An idea came to me as I stared at the Inkweaver. I stood, the front of my dress covered in blood. I grabbed Silvertongue's arm. "Save him!" I said. "Read something that will bring him back from the brink! Do it, now!" I begged, nearly pulling his sleeve off of his shirt.

He tried to shrug me off, but I wasn't to be deterred that easily. "Please, Silvertongue!" I begged. "I know you can do it!"

"I can't do it without someone to write the words for me," he replied, finally removing my hands from his pant leg.

"Please!" I begged. The tears began to fall again, and I felt my voice begin to shake again as I repeated my plea over and over, begging him to save Corwin as the tears fell down my cheeks. I began to shake all over, and I thought I was going to fall into a thousand pieces with all the shaking that was going on.

Silvertongue turned to the Inkweaver who was standing with the Motley Folk, looking awkward. "No," he said, "I swore I would never write again."

Silvertongue's daughter turned to him. "But you wrote to get us out of prison," she said. She put on a begging face. "You can't let the Black Prince die."

"Now, see here!" He declared in a voice of indignation. "I am not letting anyone die! I can't do anything about it. Get that Orpheus to write the words, but I won't!" He turned and started to stomp off.

Until this point, the man known as Orpheus had been standing around looking awkward and out of place. But when the Inkweaver said his name, he raised his head, and declared in a loud, breathless voice, "I can write just about anything!"

"Then do it, before I carve you up and serve you to the Prince's bear!" I hissed at him, the tears still streaming down my face.

He cringed and backed away from me. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he muttered under his breath.

I grabbed him by the collar. "Now!" I ordered in a deep-throated growl, desperate.

Silvertongue came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, as though he could somehow comfort me that way. I pushed him away. I didn't like him, and I didn't trust him. Nothing mattered anymore while Corwin lay dieing.

"Get off me!" I screamed, shrugging him off. Everyone surrounding Corwin stepped back a little. "All of you, get away from me!" I screamed.

The man Orpheus started to back away. "Except you!" I hissed. "You" – grabbed him by the collar – "Will save him or else I will carve you up, piece by piece, until all that's left are your eyes and hands." I was barely an inch away from his face.

"Okay," he whimpered, terrified.

"Abriella," Silvertongue began, trying to get my attention.

"You!" I turned on him. "Whatever that pitiful excuse for a man writes, you or your daughter will read, or so help me you'll wish you had never been born!" I was furious, and desperate.

"Threatening people will get you no where," the fat woman remarked, shaking a little.

"Do you want to live for another ten years?" I asked her suddenly.

"Hopefully a lot longer than that," she replied, not realizing the gravity of my condition.

"Then SHUT UP!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, which turned out to be very high-pitched.

She stepped back, tripped, and was caught by Silvertongue's wife.

"Abriella, screaming at people is not going to bring him back," Silvertongue commented.

"He's not dead!" I screamed. "And no one was asking you!"

I ran around for a while until finally Silvertongue wrapped his arms firmly around me and waited until I stopped screaming and kicking. By that time, most of the people surrounding Corwin had retreated.

I was breathing heavily. Corwin had been carried off to a better area of the castle – one where he could recover more easily, although no one thought he would but me.

I maintained a constant vigil over him, as though he might die at any moment, I covered his ears with my hands to keep the White Women from taking him from me, and I spoke to him constantly, singing until my voice was almost gone and my throat raw. But it did no good.

I hadn't the slightest idea what that man Orpheus was doing, but I prayed he was writing. If he wasn't, he would die if Corwin did. I didn't want to think that Corwin would, though, and so I kept up my talking, even though the air wheezed in my throat.

Night came, and with it was not the comforting blanket I had hoped for, but the cold creeping feeling of despair.

**AN: I apologize profusely for taking so long to update this story, and my other ones. I have been very busy on my deviantart account, so I kind of lost track. Plus, I had hit a major writer's block. But now I'm back! So here is chapter fifteen! I know I'm keeping you more in suspense, but I have to do this because I feel guilty for not adding more about Meggie and Mo. :) So, review, please, and let me know what you think. CC is welcome, flames are not.**


	16. Conclusion

Chapter 16 – Conclusion

I watched the foaming waves of the sea. The wind was whipping my hair around my face, but I didn't care. A raft floated on the unruly water, tied in place to a stake in the sand. A body tied to it, the black hair fanning out around the still and lifeless face.

Silvertongue and his family were there, standing behind me, while the old woman and the nervous man with the glasses stood beside her. Orpheus was not there. He had not been welcome. The other writer – the Inkweaver – was there, but he stood only a little ways off, looking uncomfortable. He had not been invited to the funeral, but he was not unwelcome, either.

In my hand, I held a torch. My bare feet were being slapped by the waves, as though they were telling me that this was to be my fate; that everyone I have ever loved would die on me, and I would be left alone in the world.

I took a few steps forward, the spray hissing on the flames of the torch. Then I set the raft ablaze, stepping back while the flames greedily ate up the clothes that the body wore, and the rope that held the raft in place. It floated off, onto the waves, like a drifting log. Only this wasn't a log; it was a precious person, one I had loved dearly, and was now lost to me.

I didn't cry; I had cried myself out long ago. Instead, I threw the torch into the waves where, hissing, the flames were extinguished by the salty water.

I stood there for a long time. So long a time, I didn't know that it was night until Silvertongue, holding another torch to provide light, came up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "It's over," he said simply. I nodded, wiping my dry eyes. I missed the people who had left me in my life. I missed them so much. I even missed my father, however much he had been cruel to my mother. The only one who I did not miss was Mortola. _Let her flesh be burned off by the White Women's touch_, I thought to myself. She was never a good grandmother, and she had never loved me. I had always been a disgrace to her. Well, now she was dead, and I was free to live my life the way I had always wanted.

But that life was meaningless without someone to love.

"She wouldn't have wanted you to mourn her like this," Silvertongue said after a long moment.

"How do you know?" I asked, without turning. I continued to stare at the foaming waves. The raft was no longer visible, but it didn't matter. So long as the sea was there, my mother would be there, too. Selena hadn't lived the live she'd wanted. I wished I had been able to give it to her. I felt responsible for her death, despite – if what Mortola had said was true – the fact that she had committed suicide. If I hadn't left, her beatings would have continued, but I would have been there to comfort her. I wished so much that I had been there.

"Resa was a maid for Capricorn, too, you know," he replied. "She told me everything about her life working for Mortola."

"Selena was beautiful," I murmured. There was a long silence. "Mortola was right about one thing," I said finally, breaking the silence.

Silvertongue turned to face me, surprise and worry evident on his brow. Meggie was right; his thoughts and feelings could be read on his brow like an open book.

"My mother was a coward," I continued without comment to Silvertongue's expression. "She allowed herself to be beaten into submission, and then beaten some more." I turned to face him. "I will never allow anyone to make me submit to what they want. I will never allow myself to become captive to the needs of others."

Silvertongue looked at me for a long moment. Then a slight, sad, smile appeared on his lips. "No, I don't imagine you would," he said softly. Then, removing his hand from my shoulder, he left, taking the only light with him.

I stayed there, watching the surf plunge itself against my ankles, as if taunting me with the fact that everyone I ever loved was gone, and everyone I would ever love would die.

"No," I whispered, half to myself, half to the sea. "Not everyone." A hand was laid on my shoulder. I turned, and saw nothing but blackness.

And then someone's lips were brought against my own. I tasted cinnamon. With joy, I wrapped my arms around Corwin's neck, deepening the kiss until I heard a low growl coming from behind him. He broke away, and put his hand to his chest, where Mortola had shot him. Obviously, Orpheus's words, and Meggie's voice, had done their work.

I gently touched the place, opposite to his heart. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and goosebumps stood up on his arms and chest. I leaned against him, happy to be in his embrace.

"It's not completely healed," he said. "But it will heal."

I nodded softly, staying in that position with my head tucked under his chin and his arms around me. I loved him so much.

We were black, and we were white. We were light, and we were dark. We were ying, and we were yang. We were good, and we were bad. We were all these things, and everything in between. At that moment in time, the world revolved around us, and our love for each other.

"Silvertongue thinks that the castle should belong to you," I whispered after what seemed like only a minute had passed, but really it was hours. The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, and the fiery colors reminded me of the fire that had consumed my mother's body.

Corwin gave a harsh laugh, sounding like the bird he was named after. "He can keep thinking that," he replied wryly. "I am no prince, and no king."

"You are the Black Prince," I whispered, looking up into his coal-black eyes.

He kissed me gently on the mouth. "I am nothing but a thief and a knife-thrower," he replied. "A very good knife-thrower, but still nothing but a knife-thrower. Are you sure you want to be with someone like me?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips. In the growing light, I could see his face a little more clearly than before.

I looked up at him, and gently kissed him. "Absolutely," I whispered onto his lips.

We are all born with a purpose. Whether it be simply to entertain common folk as strolling players, or to overthrow a tyrant, we are put here on this earth for a purpose. We may not know what that purpose is until it is fulfilled, and even then, we may not know. But no matter what our purpose is in life, love will be there. You may not see it; you may not recognize it; you may not know it, for it will be in the little things of life: A child's laughter as he runs through your house, a husband's gentle touch, the kiss of a lover. Or it may be even simpler than that. It could be in a gift from a neighbor, a loaf of bread left anonymously on your front step.

Or it could be the gift of a beautiful baby with light brown skin, blue eyes, and hair black as midnight. No matter what, there is love.

We are black, and we are white. We are light, and we are dark. We are ying, and we are yang. We are good, and we are bad. We are all these things, and everything in between. And at this moment in time, the world revolves around us, and our love.

**AN: I know I could have done more with this story, but I honestly didn't want to, and I love the way I've written this chapter. I think it's so romantic. Anyways, review, please, and let me know what you think. CC is welcome, flames are not.**


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